


a cunning hare is hard to find

by Iteunmul



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Banter, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Politics, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, i guess, mention of war, sulay being attracted to each other's banter first and I think that's very sexy of them, the pics at the end are snippets from Yixing's Apple Music interview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iteunmul/pseuds/Iteunmul
Summary: Painting #21Emperor Yixing barely has time for himself, as his Kingdom fills his head with infinite worries. One day, concern manifests itself in the form of political prisoner Junmyeon, a noble scholar of clan Kim, who is betrayed by his comrades during his protests against the abuse against his own kingdom.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 32
Kudos: 67
Collections: 1001 Tales: Suho/Lay Fic Fest Round 3





	1. Eagle [1/2]

There’s almost no commotion, Yixing notes. The silence ringing through his ears is somehow louder than the man who’s in front of him, yelling. The vast hallway is dirtied with blood and fallen soldiers, none of which belong to Yixing. 

“Please,” The man is already on his knees, trembling in fear. “I promise you Your Majesty—” 

“Hush.” Yixing orders, not even blinking, not a single muscle in his face moving. The only emotion displayed in his eyes is evident disgust. This man, the one on his knees begging, is a nameless coward. A true coward, hiding behind his riches, a corrupt noble until the very end. 

“Jongdae,” Yixing says, calling the attention of the man who’s quietly padding exactly ten steps behind Yixing, as instructed. 

“Yes, your Imperial Majesty.” His most trusted guard, and advisor the same, Jongdae speaks up. He arrives beside Yixing, looking at what’s in front of him. His hair is a mess, black strands falling into his eyes in a way that surely annoys him. There’s smeared blood drying on his face, and it’s not his own. 

“Tell me his offenses.” 

“Working with the enemy’s army in an attempt to overtake you, Your Majesty.” 

It’s nothing special, if anything it’s expected. Especially considering how Yixing is currently at an enemy base. An enemy base that was on his old territory, and from the start Yixing had planned to get it back.

“You failed from the moment you thought you could live on _my_ land without suffering the consequences.” The cool words are directed towards the trembling man, and Yixing watches him with no interest. This is boring him. “Surprising, giving how weak your own kingdom is.” 

“Your majesty, I _swear.”_ The man tries again. He knows it’s too late, he’s done something unforgivable in Yixing’s eyes, and he will be dealt with accordingly. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” Yixing murmurs, delivering a sharp blow to his chest. He stumbles backwards, shocked by the sudden force. It’s clear he’s weak, has spent too many years dreaming of an empire that will never be his. 

“I am—“ 

Yixing pulls his sword out gracefully, “Nothing, but the scum of the earth.” He slices across the deranged man’s chest without hesitation, watching through cold eyes as he slumps to the ground. His fingers are stretched out towards Yixing, greedy even as he meets death. 

“He didn’t even put up a fight,” Yixing murmurs, more to himself than anyone. “How despicable.”

It doesn’t make sense to Yixing, why anyone would even try to overthrow him when he’s worked so hard, poured in all his effort for the lands to prosper. His hard work has paid off in the form of countless alliances and beneficial agreements, but everything about this irks him. 

The attack was swift, and easy. Just as planned. It took months of preparation and Yixing’s patience had earned well. It’s not like they stood a chance anyways. This is just the aftermath of a war the enemy’s side had lost. Their Kingdom consisted of wealthy nobles who sat on their asses, funding a military that was unnaturally strong while their own people suffered at the hands of years and years of war. War was never easy, famine, corruption, the loss of life and other things Yixing has now grown numb too. 

Yixing didn’t think of it as a battle, he liked to think of it (when he had the time to think about it) as a task. With greater purpose. Save the citizens from the clutches of a king who knew no bounds, and held on to something he was inevitably going to lose.. 

As a result of his _greater task_ expedition, he was able to get his land back.But regardless, the enemy’s kingdom was powerful. Their supplies, weapons, warriors couldn’t have been from their kingdom alone. They came from somewhere, and for once, Yixing doesn’t know where the gap in his knowledge —the chink in his carefully built and protected empire, alliances, _Kingdoms—_ is. 

_Perfect, almost too perfect._ Yixing’s mind unhelpfully supplies. The young emperor ignores the thought as he walks around the ransacked room, the thud of his feet echoing in the empty space. The silence is comforting now, but it was the death of many that had brought it. 

His land was now back in the hands of it’s rightful owner. Bordering a dense protective forest, the massive acres of land were all a part of his plan after all. It only made sense that Yixing would acquire it. But this is only a small part of what Yixing plans to take over. He thinks about the detailed map that’s hung in his study. How each land under his power is coloured red. Now he’ll have to add this back to his map. And soon, he’ll add plenty more. 

“Jongdae.” 

“Yes, your Imperial Majesty?” 

“What of the enemy soldiers?” Yixing murmurs, easily stepping over the body. 

“All dead, or captured. Slaves and surviving enemy soldiers have been rounded up.”

“And the prisoners?”

“Remain in the cells.” Jongdae pauses, frowning. “What should we do with the prisoners?” 

“Depose them.”

“The citizens would not like that, your Majesty. You will need their support, even if you liberated them.” Jongdae had fought by Yixing’s side since he was a kid. He had come from one of the clan’s Yixing’s Father already had an alliance with. The private, but prosperous, Kim Clan. His loyalty to Yixing was infinite, and it’s only because of his years of service Yixing lets him say these words. 

“What do you suggest I do then?” Yixing replies a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he kicks a fallen spear aside. This wasn’t just an easy fight, it was a pathetic one. A waste of his time and he didn’t have much of that to begin with. He holds out his hand, silently asking. 

He hands Yixing a cloth, already knowing what the Emperor wants. Knows that Yixing already knows what to do about the prisoners and captured.

Yixing takes it, unsheathing his blade and wiping it down carefully. He watches in satisfaction as the dirt and blood gives way to reveal his favourite weapon. Sharp and pointed, his favourite blade. “Kill the slaves, and the soldiers.” 

“All of them, your Majesty?” 

“Yes.” It’s too risky, the undying loyalty they might have for their seized kingdom. One wrong move and Yixing would end up with another assasination attempt under his belt. “As for the prisoners… I’ll come take a look.” Yixing doesn’t have the time to think about prisoners and their soon-to-be whereabouts. He has meetings, papers to be signed and deadlines to be met, but if one or two make a good hostage, he will jump on that opportunity. 

Jongdae’s eyebrows quirk up at the strange request but he bows down nonetheless, which means Yixing answered correctly. “Yes, your Majesty.” 

The prison reeks of bad smells and emotions Yixing hates. Weeping, screaming, madness— and Yixing wants to snap the head of anyone who contributes to the growing sounds that chip away at his head. His eyes sweep over the cells, the quivering, pitiful people who he couldn’t care less about. 

He takes a good look at the man. Kneeling, his head bowed down towards the ground. Out of respect or because he’s forced to, Yixing doesn’t doesn’t know nor does he care. His clothes are dirtied, probably from the days of struggling he has encountered. There’s little sign of struggle in him, save for the little fire that burns in his eyes. Yixing would have to stamp that out immediately. 

“Kill him,” Yixing says without much thought. He hates those eyes, looking at him with pity. There’s something else too, and Yixing doesn’t care enough to try and decipher it. “And let his head be hung outside the gate as an example.” He doesn’t say it out of jest, but more so out of curiosity. The prisoner’s reaction doesn’t quell it. His face remains expressionless, if anything, it’s sorrowful.

With a quick flick of his wrists, the guards surrounding surge forward. Hauling the man up easily. By the look on his face, the way his eyes aren’t weighed down by months of isolation and starvation he hasn’t been here for very long. He doesn’t resist their attempts, just sagging down as if he’s accepted his fate. 

Disappointing. Yixing had half expected him to put up a fight, scream and yell like the other prisoners. It’s when he’s being dragged that Yixing sees it. On the floor, having fallen out of the prisoner’s pocket: a little stitched emblem that not only does Yixing recognise, but he’s startled that this man is the possessor of it. 

“Your Majesty,” Jongdae murmurs, quietly. He’s realized it too, and the alarm on Jongdae’s face says enough. With a wave of his fingers Jongdae is picking up the emblem and handing it over to him. 

It’s a dark blue circle, a symbol embroidered tightly onto it. It belonged to the Kim Clan, a feudal kingdom. A respectable one too, donned in shades of blue that mirrored the sea. Located on the Northern border, Yixing recalls. They were reputable, and incredibly _private._ Yixing’s kingdom and theirs were in agreement. As long as they followed the general rules they were let be. Yixing distantly ruled over them in exchange for their services. Some of Yixing’s inner palace workers had originated from there. Not his close ones, due to loyalty concerns, but enough for Yixing to recognise them. It was strange that a member of that clan of all things, was arrested.

“Stop,” Yixing orders, and the guards halt in their steps. The prisoner has yet to even acknowledge that he’s dropped a crucial part of his identity. That was even stranger, considering how loyal the Kim Clan were to each other. 

“I don’t think we should be hasty,” Jongdae murmurs quietly, and it’s clear why he changed his mind. “He didn’t resist our attack, he’s proven to be a…” Jongdae glances at the man, who keeps his eyes downcast and his facial expression impassive. “Docile subject, to say the least.” Something about the way Jongdae says _‘docile’_ indicates to Yixing that there’s more to the matter than he’s revealing. 

Yixing clicks his tongue, observing. This man is being obedient, not resistant. He doesn’t care if he lives, or dies, or maybe bides his time slowly and rots away in his cell. A pitiful life, but he shows no signs of being a threat. 

Yixing quite simply does not have the time for this. He’s filled to the brim with other responsibilities: people to convince, laws that won’t regulate themselves. If this is just another problem to add to his list, he wants to be rid of it. Immediately..\ And maybe that’s why he dismisses it so indifferently, without sparing a second. 

“You deal with it.” He directs to Jongdae, swiveling on his heels to exit the horrible place. Aside from this, he had just as much work at home to deal with. For now, he’ll focus on appointing the best to help his victory thrive. 

The next time he hears about the prisoner, five days have passed. He’s in his study, working away at the new regulations to be set in place for his acquired land. Tired to the bone but he can’t afford to rest, not when all that greets him is dead bodies and pointed daggers.

“He’s not eating, your Majesty.” Jongdae says. He interrupts the silence, and makes Yixing’s hand flinch. He stares at the new line on the paper, the black ink already drying. He’ll have to start over. 

“Who?” Yixing questions, folding the paper in half. Useless. A waste of time. He has no time to waste. 

“The prisoner,” Jongdae is fiddling with his fingers. Yixing rests back in his chair, and closes his eyes.The stacks of papers on his desk are fresh in his mind, his sword waiting to be held is right beside them. He has bigger worries. Much bigger worries. He should have executed that nuisance. What’s even more surprising is how he automatically knows who Jongdae is talking about. 

“Force feed him, for all I care.” He smooths out the new paper. The little crinkle in the corner is starting to infuriate him. How hard was it to get a blank, pristine paper? He had to do everything himself these days. He has no business worrying about the health of a mere prisoner. 

Jongdae stares at him, incredulously. “Force feed him, your Majesty?” he questions back, reproachful. He of all people should be aware of Yixing’s cruelty, this is barely crossing all the other lines he’s crossed in the past. He’s the only person Yixing will allow to question him back. A gift, for Jongdae’s years of servitude and dutifully staying by his side during the troubled years of his past.

“He’s a prisoner, Jongdae.” Yixing reminds him. Yixing quirks an eyebrow up, setting the new paper aside. He places the brush back into the pot filled with ink. Stares at the murky substance instead of at Jongdae. 

Jongdae gives him no answer.

“Why are you even concerning yourself?” Yixing frowns, “It’s a fitting solution given his status.” That’s what Yixing does. Provide solutions. He pulls out a new paper, this one is perfect. No wrinkles or blemishes, just a smooth pristine surface. Finally.

Jongdae still refuses to answer. 

Now he looks up at Jongdae, and sees him looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “What is it?” 

“You don’t think it’s strange?” Jongdae blurts out, and now that he’s started there’s no telling him to stop. “Why would the enemy Kingdom have a prisoner from the _Kim Clan_ at their base? Given the dynamic of the Kim Clan they would have demanded that he’s brought back at once.” 

Yixing imagines having to send an apology letter, and he doesn’t like it. “So he managed to wander where he shouldn’t have. “

“He’s not even a warrior,” Jongdae says, his lips pressed together firmly.

“You don’t know that.” 

“He would have been _fighting against us_ if he was!” 

“Watch your tone.” 

“Apologies, your Majesty,” Jongdae takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “This is… close to home. One would say.” 

Loyalty issues forgotten, he had completely failed to remember that Jongdae was from the same clan. Jongdae hadn’t been at the clan long enough to have his loyalties lie with them but as his birthplace he still felt obligatory respect for them. Just a little. He had been sent to Yixing’s lands to train, selected as Yixing’s only guard when he was just a boy, his skill prominent even then. Yixing’s protection was above all because he was the heir.

“I see,” Yixing sighs, 

“There was no reason for him to travel outside the Clan’s borders. They wouldn’t have let him.”

“We don’t even know if he’s _from_ the Clan. He could’ve stolen it. Don’t you think you’re putting too much into someone who could be deceiving you?” 

“I have reason to believe he’s not from the enemy’s land.” Jongdae answers, glancing at the doors. “I’m sure of it.” 

“Why would they be holding a prisoner who isn’t from their own lands?” This could be dangerous.

“There’s a very easy way to find out.” Jongdae murmurs, frowning. It’s not like Jongdae to be unaware of anything going on in the many kingdoms sprawled across the land. “But it was bad enough for him to end up in the enemy’s prisons.” 

“How absurd.” His tone is final, he has no interest in looking into the prisoner anytime soon. 

“I suggest you look into it, your Majesty” Jongdae takes a step back as Yixing stands up to stretch, his black robes falling into place. He looks like the incarnation of death, and it’s fitting. 

“Maybe.” He’s not interested in doing that in the slightest. He’s just humouring Jongdae who is clearly trying to rouse his concern. The paperwork, all the signatures he needs to sign. He has an audience with another Kingdom delegate soon. They all share the same message: no time. 

“Something isn’t right.” Jongdae frowns. “Better to find out—” 

“What time is my next audience?” There had to be enough time to do six papers, at the least. 

“It’s in twenty minutes, your Majesty.” Jongdae pauses, “I believe you should talk to him.” Apparently the tone of his voice was not a big enough hint for Jongdae to drop it. 

“He’s a prisoner,” Yixing repeats, firmer. “What he does holds no importance to me.” 

Jongdae fixes a steely gaze on Yixing in response. 

“I don’t have the time for that, Jongdae.” 

“I can make time in your schedule,” Jongdae says. 

“Your Majesty,” Yixing reminds him. Rules were rules after all. 

“Your Majesty,” Jongdae repeats, testily. “Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.” 

“Do I really have ten minutes to spare?” The paper lies forgotten. It’s rare that Jongdae ever asks him for anything. 

Jongdae nods. “Right before your scheduled meal with Prince Sehun and the representative of the Park Clan.” 

“You can just say Prince Chanyeol, you know.” 

“Your Majesty,” Jongdae presses. Now that one was for mocking, although reminding, intent. 

“Why are you being so incessant about this?” 

“It would be a poor decision on our part to let a prisoner whose origins are unknown starve on our land.” Jongdae pauses, “Your Majesty.” Another one for mocking. 

“Unknown origins? I thought you were sure he was from the Kim Clan.” 

Jongdae purses his lips. “It seems you have forgotten that I myself was in a similar situation when I arrived.” 

It wasn’t really, but now Yixing feels a bit of guilt. He doesn’t bother reminding Jongdae of the titles. It’s only out of respect for Jongdae that he doesn’t dismiss the prisoner’s habits. Yixing wants nothing to do with this. “He’s not eating out of his own will, there isn’t anything I can do.” He has to get this letter sent out, and then get ready for his audiences. 

“You hired me out of our built trust, and now I’m requesting, on that trust, that you go see him. My suspicions should be enough for questioning, and given the emblem we found from him he should have been granted an audience with you the moment you returned.” 

“And you think I should give him one. You believe _I,_ should do the questioning. ”

“Yes, your Majesty. He was quite adamantly against answering my own.”

Yixing blinks in surprise, “You questioned him?”

“Ten minutes.” Jongdae reminds him. 

Yixing pauses, and considers it. Ten minutes is hardly a significant amount of time, even if that time could be spent wisely somewhere else. Once again, only out of respect for Jongdae. It’s the least he can do for the main reason he’s still alive. 

“Ten minutes. That’s it.”

Jongdae bows, “Thank you, your Majesty.” 

“How did you know he wasn’t eating?” he murmurs, glancing at Jongdae. 

Although his face is expressionless, the reddening tips of ears give him away. 

“You checked up on him?” Interesting. Jongdae rarely concerned himself with business that wasn’t strictly the duties Yixing had given to him. 

“He intrigued me, your Majesty,” Jongdae replies, keeping his eyes on the stone paths. Jongdae isn’t giving Yixing the whole truth, but Yixing will let it be. Like he said, it was a subject close to home. 

“How so?” He’s not too intrigued, but Jongdae’s reaction has him curious. He had only requested ten minutes, and Yixing wonders what Jongdae thinks will happen in such a short span of time. 

“He was polite in his ways, but managed to evade every question I asked.” Jongdae seems troubled, and Yixing selfishlessly doesn’t ask. He lets his mind wander to his next meetings. The dinner he’ll be having soon. 

The Park Clan, a proud kingdom with the gifts of fire and light. His Kingdom had been working on a trade deal for years now, and Yixing will be the one to cement it. He was a successful emperor, everyone said. But it’s not enough to calm the insecurities that plagued him at night. He had to be better than successful, he had to be the best. The history maker, the one referred to until the end of time. 

And so far he was on the right paths. With the laws he’s implemented, the slow but steady way he’s been gaining land after land, follower after follower. 

“You should’ve threatened to cut his tongue off.” Yixing replies, late. 

Jongdae fixes a withering glare on Yixing, “And if he is from the Kim Clan? Given our alliance with how would we explain that to them?” 

“I doubt they would care so much, given how he was rotting in a cell.”

Jongdae remains silent, and Yixing lets his thoughts settle on the current situation when he reaches the cell. He has guards on either side of him, just in case the prisoner manages to lash out. He doubts it, given how ready he was to be killed at their last encounter. “Announcing His Imperial Highness, Emperor of the Zhang Kingdom,” Jongdae announces. The words echo through the worn stone walls.

The prisoner is sitting against the back wall of the cell. He bows his head down, respectfully. Interesting, but not interesting enough for Yixing to want to question him. “You may leave,” he addresses the guards. He can see that the prisoner is no threat. They do, shuffling out of the dark hallway robotically.

Yixing looks down on the prisoner. He’s well kept, for someone who’s been locked away for days. He’s got a nice face, handsome, pretty even if his cheeks are beginning to look hollowed. Bordering dainty. Someone Yixing wouldn’t mind pulling out from prison and putting with the concubines he never uses. Which means he’s surprisingly sturdy for someone of his nature.

“Tell me, what’s your name?” The prisoner keeps his head down. Shame? Hate? Yixing doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know.

No answer. 

“It wasn’t a question, it was an order.” He feels a tick of annoyance. What a waste of time. “Introduce yourself. Properly.” 

“My name is Kim Junmyeon,” is the quiet reply. It’s an ordinary name that belongs to an ordinary person, but his voice. His voice is steady, soothing almost. Surprising given the circumstances. A voice made for lulling people to sleep. He can probably sing very well, Yixing muses. A shame given how if this meeting goes badly his voice will never see the light of day again.

Kim Junmyeon. His name is an indicator enough of what Yixing didn’t want to be true. But it could be a lie, everything’s on the table until Yixing pulls out the emblem, and drops it on the floor. Watches with his trained eyes as recognition flickers across the prisoners face, before it morphs into something stony. Sad even. 

“Do you recognise this emblem?” A stupid question. A warm up question. 

“Yes,” A deep breath, shuddery in a way that means he’s either scared or trying not to cry. How amusing. “I do.” 

“You speak the common tongue,” Yixing marvels, a little impressed. “And quite well too.” 

He receives no answer. 

“If you expect to survive longer than the ten minutes I’m spending with you, you may want to answer my questions.” A threat. A well constructed one. 

“My apologies, but you asked no question Your Majesty.” He’s smart, answering Yixing in a way that’s polite, but could be condescending in a matter of seconds if his tone was different. His hands are resting on his knees, and even those look dainty too, somehow. He’s clearly not a warrior, Yixing sees little signs of muscle beneath his blue robes, he doesn’t have the mark of one either. No calloused fingers, no signs of wounds or scars. His accent is barely noticeable, the sign of someone who’s been well taught since birth. 

“Fair,” Yixing indulges, out of boredom he supposes. “But as my _prisoner_ I suggest you keep your wit to yourself. How do you speak the common tongue so fluently?”

“I learnt it.” 

“If I had wanted an answer as simple as that, I would have said so.” 

He looks at Yixing again, his eyes unreadable. “I studied it at a young age.” That’s not nearly enough information for Yixing, but he keeps a neutral face.

“How many other languages are you familiar with?” The question slips out before Yixing can control himself. He really is curious, and this question is asked selfishly. He’s not really trying to gather any information. 

“The languages of the Western and Southern borders as well.” 

Rare, and well-matched to Yixing. 

“And yet you were wasting away in a prison cell.” It’s a subtle dig at him. He wants to provoke the prisoner, see what will get his cold facade to break. 

“Unfortunate circumstances.” Strange reply from a strange man. 

“Your occupation?” Yixing demands. 

“I was a scholar.”

“Why were you arrested?” Yixing tilts his head, trying to get a good read on him. 

“Peaceful protest,” Junmyeon answers blithely and Yixing ignores it. 

_Was._ Not is. “A scholar?” Yixing’s eyebrows raise. “Arrested for _protesting?”_ Peculiar. He asks to deflect the previous bit of information. Just what was this man protesting? He doesn’t know.

“You’d be surprised how interesting problems outside of your own are,” he replies, and now his voice is cool and calm. Waves against the shore. Junmyeon’s eyes stay directed at the ground. 

“Look at me when I speak to you.” 

His eyes linger on the ground before they slide up, and Yixing can see the amusement simmering in them. Just like his own. It intrigues Yixing, how this prisoner is so calm even though he could be seconds away from death. He thinks back to how he sagged in the arms of his guards, and maybe death is actually what this man wants. Maybe, that’s why he’s daring to joke with Yixing. 

“Why concern yourself with protests? Surely you had other things to do. A book to bury your nose in, perhaps. Assuming you can read.” 

“I assure you I can,” Junmyeon smiles, and it’s polite, and actually reaches his eyes. 

“So you can read, and speak the many languages of this Empire,” That’s rare, and impressive. This prisoner may be very, very useful to Yixing. “That’s not common given how far out the Kim Clan is.” 

“Who said I was from the Kim Clan?” 

“You recognised the emblem which is kept secret from most other than higher-ups in different clans, and the Kim Clan itself. Wouldn’t it be strange if you weren’t from there?” 

“What if I’m just a higher-up from another Kingdom?” The prisoner says, and there’s the barest hint of a smile on his face. He likes the banter, as if they’re matching wits. Yixing will undoubtedly win, if the prisoner values his life. But there’s no denying the spark of interest that runs under his skin. “You did say that yourself.” 

“Who did you belong to before coming into my possession?” Yixing questions coolly. 

“The Kim Clan.” Junmyeon responds ironically, the warmth his face was just showing already cooling down. 

The straight-forward answer surprises Yixing. He had expected that he’d have to pry answers out slowly because Jongdae had difficulty getting answers. But deep down he knew this. He wasn’t originally from the enemy lands. The moment the prisoner uttered his name, Yixing knew this. He glances up at Jongdae, whose jaw is set stiffly. That was a bad sign. The Kim Clan was notorious for looking out for themselves, their own tribe first. 

He can’t just execute this prisoner, he doesn’t want any source of trouble with the Kim Clan. He looks down at Junmyeon, trying to see if his facade is actually a facade. Trying to use his eyes and aura to see if he can break past the mask Junmyeon has put on. 

“We’re done here.” He starts to walk away, waving Jongdae— who looks like he has something to say. Something he can’t say in front of Junmyeon—to follow him. “Bring me a messenger, to travel to the Kim Clan’s lands and inform them of their lost member.” 

“Wait,” The prisoner says, brimming with momentary surprise. Yixing halts his movements, but doesn’t turn around to face him. “That wouldn’t be in your best interest.” 

It takes Yixing by surprise, it doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t add up at all, if Junmyeon feels the same sense of loyalty to his Clan and the Clan does to him, he would be begging to be sent back. Taking advantage of the fact that Yixing can’t hurt him due to who he belongs to. 

“It wouldn’t?” Yixing questions, amused. He tries to picture Junmyeon’s face, anxiety ridden and pale. But that doesn't work, because the prisoner would never show a face like that. He’ll be trying to keep his face neutral, and struggling to do so if anything.

“You can’t inform them,” he sounds nervous. Yixing glances carefully at Jongdae, who looks at the prisoner with curiosity. 

Jongdae’s looking back at Yixing now, and what he wants is clear. He wants Yixing to leave Junmyeon alone. A smart plan, to grant the prisoner a favour and use it to gain leverage. Now he knows a little bit more about Junmyeon, that for whatever reason he was on enemy territory, and he’s not on good terms with his own clan. 

“I’ll be the decider of that.” Yixing lets his words sit in the air. Gives Junmyeon an opportunity to explain himself. Why he doesn’t want to alert his own clan, who’s known for being a familial and cordial kingdom. Junmyeon doesn’t take the bait, and maybe he’s smart for that. Luring Yixing in with suspenseful words, and he’s tempted to give in. “And take this as a warning: It would be in your best interest to eat, if you cherish your life.” An order, disguised as a recommendation.

He continues to walk, and waves for Jongdae to follow him again. When they’re out of the prisoners sight, he turns to look at his guard. Jongdae stares back at him, lips pressed together. 

“What is it? You should be glad considering I didn’t kill him.” 

“Five minutes, your Majesty.” Jongdae answers, glancing at Yixing. “Five minutes and you barely got anything out of him.” 

“Impossible, that had to be at least seven. And I got more than information.”

“Five minutes and forty-three seconds, if you would like me to be precise. And besides the confirmation that he’s from the Kim Clan, there was really nothing beneficial.” 

“I found out why he was arrested.” 

“Peaceful protest,” Jongdae frowns, “Which begs the question of where, and _what_ he was protesting.” 

“Jongdae,” Yixing pauses, letting the guards open the doors for him. He’s met with the barest hint of sunshine, and grey clouds that roll above him, look like there’s a storm coming. “I have no interest in going back there.” 

“You have six minutes and fifty-seven seconds left to talk to talk to him.” 

“Has Prince Chanyeol and Sehun arrived at the dining hall yet?” 

“Your Majesty,” Jongdae admonishes, stopping. Yixing stops alongside him. They’re halfway through the stone path that leads to the main palace. “Yes he has. You said ten minutes.” 

“You were there for the duration of that entire interaction. Getting answers will be like pulling teeth. I don’t have the time to do that,” Yixing shakes his head. “Are they waiting?”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Jongdae resumes walking when Yixing does. “You don’t have to come back now, but I implore you to revisit him at some point. At least find out the reasoning behind his arrest—” 

“Peaceful protesting.” Yixing cuts in, “You know that. You were there. Were you not listening?” 

_“Why_ he was protesting. What _kind_ of protest.” 

“Put simply, I don’t have the time to deal with this.” Yixing cuts in before Jongdae can say anything else. “If he chooses to starve to death, that’s not my concern. What he chooses to do while in that cell is his concern alone.” 

“Your Majesty, I beg to differ.” 

Yixing sighs. “You have five seconds to explain.” 

“You seem to have forgotten that he admitted he’s from the clan, Kim, your Majesty.” If Jongdae’s tone gets any sharper, he’ll be berating Yixing. “It doesn’t make sense that he was idly sitting in the enemy prisons. Peacefully protesting aside, he shouldn’t have been there. Unless he was protesting there.” 

“So he was protesting there,” Yixing answers, starting to feel weary. 

“He was too far away from his clan for that to make sense.” 

“He said he was a scholar,” So Jongdae _was_ listening. “He shouldn’t be concerning himself with things like that. He shouldn’t have been in those lands in the first place if he wasn’t a warrior in our joint armies.” Jongdae has a point. Members of the Kim Clan hardly left unless they were chosen by the Imperial Palace themselves. There was no reason for Kim Junmyeon to be in the enemy lands at all. Arrested, or there for no reason, he shouldn’t have been there. His Clan wouldn’t have let him travel there, especially during a time of war. 

“Regardless the Kim Clan doesn’t know he was there, and now here.” 

“Unless they did.” 

“Jongdae, The Kim Clan helped us with our victory.” Yixing halts, looking at his guard carefully. They had helped, hadn’t they? Maps of the land, secrets written in code passed from one dead messenger to the next. He knows what the idea, the _accusation_ lurking behind Jongdae’s words are, and he’s making sure his words stop Jongdae from crossing the line. 

“I’ve heard rumours of conflicts in the North…” Jongdae continues on. “It could be related to that.”

The Kim Clan’s privacy was a price for their services, an agreement Yixing is starting to regret. Inner conflict, is what the rumours said. Inner conflicts that were making their way out, is what Yixing’s instinct tells him. He thought after his most recent invasion the conflicts would be finished but apparently that wasn’t the case. The Kim Clan was close to the lands Yixing had just occupied, maybe they held greed for it. 

“Why he was there is not my concern,” Yixing thinks back to the words, the weirdly playful look in Junmyeon’s eyes. Like he knew that he had access to information Yixing wants. How confident he was It would do him good to forget his name as soon as possible. “For all we know he could’ve just been born to a Kim, but outside of the clan.” 

Jongdae’s frown deepens. “There’s more to this your Majesty. I’m sure of it.” 

“I’ll think about it.” Is all he graces Jongdae with. “For now, let me deal with my actual problems.” Like the meeting. And his growing list of paperwork. And the laws waiting to be decreed. And how he’s going to entertain the children during dinner. 

Park Chanyeol is the youngest Prince from the Park Clan. He’s a bumbling teenage oaf who means well, and it endears Yixing rather than annoy him. He’s a bit rusty when it comes to negotiating and deals, and the work they’re dealing with, but he’s honest and a hard worker when he’s not blabbering. He had come to study at Yixing’s kingdom three years ago, and had two more years to go before heading back. Surprisingly, he’s one of the only people Yixing trusts. It’s admittedly frustrating when the younger chooses to gossip while they discuss negotiations, but in this case it ends up with Yixing confirming a very useful piece of information. 

“You wouldn’t believe what I found out earlier,” Chanyeol leans in, voice lowering as he shuffles papers around. He doesn’t even wait for Yixing to respond, just continues talking without a single pause. “Just rumours, but they’re interesting anyways.” 

“Enlighten me.” 

That’s enough for Chanyeol to open his mouth. 

“Word has it that the enemy’s side received help— and not from a fellow opponent.” 

Now Yixing had heard that, and it made sense. His enemy, the leaders of the land he just seized, were rather weak compared to Yixing’s dynasty. They would have had to turn to another party to get the help they needed. 

“And conveniently enough, several other Kingdoms in the North are arguing amongst each other during their meetings, I’ll bet anything that they’re trying to figure out who it was. It only makes sense if a Northern Clan was helping them, because they all border the lands,” Chanyeol ponders smartly, and Yixing likes the way Chanyeol thinks. 

“Kingdoms in the North , huh. Then the Kim Clan,” Yixing responds without much thought, listing the first few that come to mind. The Kim Clan had a pretty tight hold over the clans in that area. Luckily Yixing’s power overrode them.

“Exactly, there’s more to it though. Clans are accusing each other, some accusers have gone missing. With no explanation as to where they ended up. Killed, probably. “The noble families are fighting, supposedly.” 

Jongdae, who has been standing by Yixing’s desk so silently he’s blended with the shadows, shifts at this. Discomfort, which means he’s been collecting information on this. And Chanyeol knows too much for someone who’s just studying. 

“Tragic,” Yixing murmurs, and he truly does believe so. Missing people meant mourning families, and even if family isn’t a word he resonates with, he can imagine their pain. But rather than pity he feels intrigue. 

Noble families fighting was a serious problem— it indicated inner conflict within the clans. Not only inner fighting, but clearly they were starting to fight each other too. Accusations, disappearing people, all things Yixing has dealt with. All things he’s not afraid to use. Surely they would come to Yixing for help, unless they wanted to keep it _private._ And if the Kim Clan was involved...But even that doesn’t sit right. “Tell me, what do you think can be done?” 

“Nothing,” Chanyeol shakes his head. “Not until they declare it an issue for the public. I mean you are the Emperor so technically you can just march there with your armies and demand whatever you want— but that won’t sit right with them. They _are_ very private clans, so it would be best for people outside the Northern lands to keep quiet. ” Ironic, considering how Chanyeol is running his mouth to Yixing about the very stuff he shouldn’t be. 

“They’re under my rule, Chanyeol.” Yixing reminds him, setting a stack of papers aside. “They can’t be so private that they refuse to answer my questions.” It’s a bit of a trick question, Yixing testing Chanyeol’s knowledge on the treaties. But his mind is elsewhere. Problems in the North, missing people, fighting families and clans. A volatile combination of inner land and outer land fighting. He would need to send more informants, maybe Jongdae himself. Or perhaps...

Yixing’s thoughts stray towards the prisoner. His downcast eyes, the unexplained confidence. Yes, that prisoner, Junmyeon, from the Kim Clan. WHo definitely had a trump card against Yixing, a trump card that included not taking the easy route out by letting Yixing contact his clan. It all makes sense, if Junmyeon was protesting against the conflicts. Wanting the comfort of cooperation back. 

If the way he called out to Yixing showed anything, it showed that he was cautious of his clan finding out. Probably because they valued privacy, and Junmyeon wants to get the Emperor involved to help. It doesn’t explain how he ended up in enemy territory, but it does explain Junmyeon’s confusing actions. 

“ —territory, they exchange their goods for land.” Chanyeol drones on despite Yixing’s lack of focus. “Nowhere in your agreement does it say that they have to answer your every question. Every call and beck? Yes. Questions? No. As a founding clan they are also favoured. ”

“Good job.” 

Chanyeol blinks slowly, breaking out into a smile. “Your Majesty! You tricked me!” 

“Tested you,” Yixing corrects. And with that, meeting adjourned,” he announces suddenly. If Chanyeol is shocked he doesn’t show it. He must be relieved, they’ve been at it for a long time anyways. “We’ve been at this for hours, we can continue this tomorrow, get some rest.” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” Chanyeol looks at him curiously but obeys the request anyways. Oh,” He smiles ruefully like the boy he is. Yixing wishes he had the opportunity to grow up like Chanyeol, surrounded by love and progessive ways. “Is the banquet this week or next?” 

“Neither,” Yixing responds with a little smile.”It’s next month, Chanyeol.” 

“Oh,” Chanyeol bites his lip, presumably to hide his sheepish smile. “My apologies, your Majesty.” 

“You and Sehun are too alike, too forgetful. But no worries.” Yixing can count on one hand how many people he trusts, and although barely, and for reasons unknown, Chanyeol makes the list. Hence why he got the privilege to stay in Yixing’s kingdom for months on end. With a quick bow he’s off again, and Yixing turns to look at Jongdae the second he’s gone. 

“Did you know of this?” he doesn’t need to specify what exactly. 

“I was informed just two days ago, I was waiting for another confirmation before telling you.” Jongdae admits, “I had reason to believe there was conflict, and reason to believe the cause of the conflict was false.” 

“I’m sure you’ve but two and two together then.” Yixing leans back in his chair. “The prisoner’s protesting. His reluctance for contacting.” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” That’s probably why Jongdae was being so incessant. Dammit.

“I’m holding a man with answers in my prisons,” Yixing pinches the tip of his nose. “Could this be used to our advantage?” 

“I believe so, your Majesty.” 

“The last time I talked to that man, you wanted to say something to me. What was it?” 

“I thought I knew him, your Majesty.” Jongdae replies. 

“And did you?”

“For a brief amount of time, yes.”

“And what about it?” 

“Your Majesty,” Jongdae pauses, inhaling slowly. “He’s the son of a noble. I’m sure of it.”

“What?” Yixing blinks, trying not to show how surprised he is.The son of a noble. Who cared little about their life. And is currently resting in Yixing’s prison.

Yixing looks down at his papers, assessing the words to make sure everything is in order. This letter was to be sent down to the South, it was important that everything about it was perfect. He looks outside, and sees that nighttime has already fallen. The cycle is never ending. Day and night, day and night, day and night, with little to no break. And just like that, another day has passed. “I’ll investigate tomorrow. Arrange a time slot for the five minutes.”

Yixing waits a total of two days before going and visiting his prisoner. ‘Wait’ wasn’t the most accurate term. This happened to be the only time slot available. His in and out meetings with Chanyeol, meals with higher up lords, and personal training sessions had been running his time into the ground. Not to mention making sure Sehun, the youngest Prince in the Zhang Kingdom (the only sibling Yixing had let survive) was taken care of to the best of people’s abilities. On top of getting his people on the weird rumours of the North, and dealing with the new land he’s acquired. Yixing is familiar with the hectic schedule of an emperor, it was the main excuse his Father used to get out of visiting him. 

“Announcing His Imperial Highness, Emperor of the Zhang Kingdom,” Jongdae speaks up. Yixing dismisses the guards and permits Jongdae to stay again. He stands in front of the bars, looking down on Junmyeon. The prisoner is still sitting against the wall, cross legged. He’s fairly clean for someone who’s been living in prison for days. 

“Your Majesty,” Junmyeon bows his head in a little respectful greeting. He still doesn’t look him in the eyes. Yixing will have to change that. 

“Kim Junmyeon, member of the Kim Clan,” Yixing starts off. He has a plan today, not a badly improvised and hasty visit. Six minutes. That’s all he’s allowing. 

“Emperor Yixing,” Junmyeon greets him civilly, the fire still flickers in his eyes. Faint, but lingering. Today, Yixing likes it. Tomorrow, he probably won’t. “Two visits in one week, I’m starting to feel rather special.” 

There’s a polite coolness in his tone, a wall that’s been built more than once around his personality. Yixing will have to break it down. “I trust you’ve been well,” 

“The care I’ve received has been exceptional.” 

“Especially compared to the cell you were detained in previously, for protesting.” Yixing pauses, “You never told me just what you were protesting.” 

“And you never contacted the Kim Clan,” Junmyeon taps his fingers against his knees. 

“Hm, I was feeling generous.” And before Junmyeon can grace him with a silent answer, he puts an end to it. “That wasn’t a question, but I assure you an answer is needed.” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” 

“Nice to see you’re catching on quickly.” 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Junmyeon smiles wryly, “The books I’ve been burying my face in have taught me well.” 

“Let’s not waste any time,” Yixing smiles, and it’s more intimidating than pleasant. “What were you protesting?” 

Junmyeon meets Yixing’s eyes now, like he’s calculating his answers. “Abuse.” 

“Be more specific.” 

“Abuse against my Clan, and abuse within it as well.” 

“Interesting. A member of the private Kim Clan,” Yixing notices the way Junmyeon flinches slightly. “So openly talking about the problems in the North. You were right, there are some very interesting problems outside my own.” 

“Honoured, your Majesty.” 

“But that doesn’t explain why the son of a noble was wasting away in an enemy’s prison cell.” 

That takes Junmyeon by surprise, his eyes rounding before he could even register he slipped up. 

“So either you withheld information from me, or we were talking about two different kinds of scholars. I was referring to the intellectual scholar, while you were referring to the caste scholar?” 

“I don’t see how this is beneficial to you in the slightest,” Junmyeon snarks, but it comes off as shaken. 

“You were referring to both, right?” Yixing glances at Jongdae, who looks at Yixing with confusion written all over his face. He’s wondering why Yixing is asking. Honestly, Yixing is wondering that too. 

Junmyeon presses his lips together. 

_“Right?”_ Yixing presses. 

“If they have the time to deny it, then it’s true.” He says cryptically, looking up at Yixing, meeting his gaze evenly. “Are we done here?” 

“We’re done when I say we’re done.” 

“And if I refuse to talk?” 

“There are ways to make you talk,” Yixing replies coolly. “Methods I have used on friends and enemies alike. None of which I’m scared to use on you.”

“I’m both, intellectually and caste-based.” 

“A scholar, protesting abuse, and being vocal about it in what his clan would consider the wrong place to be vocal. How were you arrested? It wouldn’t be easy for the son of a noble to go through a trial, so much as actually lose.” 

“There was no trial,” and instead of confidence there’s sorrow. “I was betrayed by my comrades, that’s all there is to it.” his voice is softer now, like he’s losing his edge. 

“How am I supposed to believe your words?” Yixing questions harshly. He’s no stranger to being frank to the point where it’s uncomfortable. He notes Junmyeon’s wince, and the way Jongdae hides his. 

“That’s not up to me, your Majesty.” 

“You’re going to have to convince me,” Yixing crosses his arms. 

“How would you suggest I do that?” Junmyeon replies, an eyebrow raised. The sadness is still there, but it’s taken a backseat. 

“You’re the intellectual, how would you suggest you do that?” 

“If we’re being serious… swearing my allegiance to you.” He replies, and by his tone and look alone Yixing can tell he’s serious. It shocks him, it really does. The Kim Clan bred loyalty to themselves as if they would die if they didn’t. One look at Jongdae’s face is enough for Yixing to know he’s shocked too. Put simply: if Junmyeon ever decided to betray him after swearing himself, Yixing would feel no guilt in his swift death.

“Do you mean it? There are other things you could offer as well,” Yixing points out, even though those other things are not wanted by him at all.

Junmyeon looks like he’s restraining himself. Using all his willpower to stop his face from twisting in disgust. “I’m afraid I don’t.” 

Junmyeon has boundaries. Good. 

“I meant your service.” Yixing clarifies, “Offer yourself, wholeheartedly to serve me, and I will consider whether or not you deserve to live. If I were you, I would make your decision quickly.” Yixing had everything he could ever want and need, and more. But _time._ He never had enough of that. Most of it was spent with foolish ambassadors and chatty wives. Wasted away in sword training and army protocols. Burned to the ground with paper, after paper, law, after law. 

“I don’t get time to decide?” Junmyeon asks faintly, like he’s surprised even though he offered in the first place. There must be some part of him that regrets his rash words and if Yixing cared enough he would feel a twinge of sympathy. 

“Every moment you’ve spent starving yourself in this cell counts.” 

“Right, your Majesty.”

“Have you made your decision?” Yixing asks, looking down at Junmyeon through the bars of the cell. 

Silence greets his ears. Not the kind which Junmyeon uses to answer, but the kind that shows that he’s thinking. It reminds Yixing of the silence at the enemy base. The cries of a corrupt noble, and the responsibilities that came with it. The surprising responsibility that’s in front of Yixing now— one he wouldn’t be dealing with had he chosen to execute the prisoners. 

“I think you already know the answer, your Majesty.” 

Yixing continues to gaze at him. Expectant. 

“I will serve you, your Majesty.” 

“Swear yourself to me.” Yixing commands, his voice low. Audible only because the cells are quiet and barren. 

Junmyeon lifts his head, looking up at Yixing. In a graceful movement he clasps his hands and places it over his chest. He’s well taught after all, proven by how he follows the customs of Yixing’s Kingdom. Not the Kim Clan. 

“Apologies if I get the words wrong,” His voice is softer now, but just as dangerous as Yixing’s. “By the power of the dragons and the energy of the land, I swear myself to the service of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Zhang Yixing of the Zhang kingdom.” 

“Say it. Start from the beginning.” It's more important for Yixing than anyone else that he hears Junmyeon say it in full. It’s been a long time since the blood that stained Yixing’s hands caused him nightmares, maybe because now he chooses not to sleep, but he takes no chances. 

Junmyeon breathes in slowly, and starts over. “By the power of the dragons and the energy of the land, I swear myself to the service of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Zhang Yixing of the Zhang kingdom. And should I have a change of heart, let it be decided by fate, that my death is… imminent.” 

Yixing smiles, the polite smile he gives foregin delegates. Respectful but cold, keeping unwanted emotions at bay. Without turning his head he addresses Jongdae. “Move him to the Jade Palace.”


	2. Eagle [2/2]

The Jade Palace is more like a small house than a _palace._ The only reason it has the name it does is due to how it’s located on the same sprawling property as the Emerald Palace— which is where Yixing resides. Yixing lets Jongdae take care of getting Junmyeon settled in. Of course Jongdae wouldn’t _personally_ take care of it but he would assign people to. 

“Did someone new move in?” A small voice pipes up, rousing Yixing from his thoughts. 

Yixing looks down to the child standing beside him, smiling. Sehun, who was probably the only person in the entire Empire who Yixing would smile so freely at. As Yixing’s younger half-brother, and only sibling still alive, he’s greatly cherished. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“Chanyeol was telling me that someone,” Sehun pauses, his eyebrows furrowing. His eyes track a floundering butterfly with a fascination Yixing hopes he’ll cling to. “New came in.” 

“Someone did,” Yixing confirms, sighing at the thought that Chanyeol would find out. They would need to hide Junmyeon’s identity, or his last name at least. Create a cover story that would allow Junmyeon to stay in the big palace residence without it being suspicious. It was convenient that Junmyeon could easily be a teacher. “But don’t believe everything Chanyeol says.” 

“He’s right most of the time, isn’t he?” 

“No,” Yixing frowns, ruffling Sehun’s hair. It’s soft in between Yixing’s fingertips, and reminds him of flower petals. “He just knows more because he’s older.” 

Sehun hums at that, like he’s not quite satisfied with Yixing’s answer. But he still continues to hold Yixing’s hand so it’s not as bad as he’s trying to play it off as. Yixing doesn’t normally get time to spend with Sehun, so he’s killing two birds with one stone with this walk. On his way to visit Junmyeon he’s letting Sehun tag along until they get there. 

Even from here he can see Junmyeon’s head above the poorly constructed stone wall. Why he’s outside when it’s a dump, Yixing can’t possibly understand. The inside of the Jade Palace was decent, like a stone house made for practicality, not comfort. If Junmyeon wants to have better quarters he’s going to have to work for it. 

“Is that him?” 

Almost as if he’s heard, Junmyeon’s head dips down past the stone fence.

Yixing hushes Sehun with a wave of his hand, letting the younger peek at Junmyeon from behind his robes. 

“He looks familiar,” Sehun whispers, squinting. 

“I doubt you would know him. He’s from a very private clan.” 

“The Kim Clan?” Sehun perks up, his hands tightening where they hold. Sehun is too smart, Yixing would like to think. Even if that was the obvious answer. “Then he’s—” Sehun stumbles over his own feet. 

“Careful little one,” Yixing murmurs, pulling Sehun beside him. He’d rather guide Sehun from the side than let Sehun guide him. He doesn’t give an answer to Sehun, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He’s only a child after all, no need to involve him in the bigger, more complicated royal affairs. 

“I think I know him!” Sehun crows, a little too loud for Yixing’s taste but it’s Sehun, so he lets it slide. 

“And how do you know that, Little Master?” Jongdae asks the question in Yixing's mind. 

“I accompanied Chanyeol to their lands a few years back,” It was only two years back, when Sehun was seven. “And he was one of the people who greeted us,” Sehun pauses, his eyebrows furrowing. “He was… the son of someone or another. I think. He gave me a sweet when no one was looking.”

It gives some insight into just how noble Junmyeon’s blood is. As a private clan visitors weren’t as welcomed as they should be. The nobles took care of greeting the guests, higher status people were greeted by higher status people. Sehun was the heir after Yixing, so if Junmyeon greeted him—

“How nice,” Jongdae smiles interrupting Yixing’s train of thought. He’s looking at Yixing and he looks troubled. “However, you’re running behind schedule. Looks like you have to head back now, Little Master.” 

“Already?” Sehun looks up at Yixing, and his eyes are wide and he’s as adorable as ever. It’s always hard to say bye to him.

“Your study schedule was set back because of this,” Yixing reminds him. “No need for you to lack, even if it’s a matter of minutes.” 

“I hate my teacher,” Sehun huffs.

“Hate is a strong word,” Yixing chastises ironically. “At the least say you despise them.” 

“It’s the same thing!” 

“If you studied you would know it’s not,” Yixing jokes lightly, patting Sehun’s shoulders. “Don’t be so worried, I’ve already found you a new teacher.” 

“Please,” Sehun sighs, “That doesn’t matter.” It does, especially to yixing who only wants the best for his baby brother. “Can you really spare no more time for me?” He’s pouting, and the dejected look on his face pulls as Yixing’s heart strings. He would love to spend more time with his youngest brother, but he doesn’t have the time to. Never had the time to. Ten minute walks around the palace gardens while he has another goal in mind are all he can spare. 

Yixing places a hand on his shoulder softly, crouching down until he’s at the same eye level as Sehun. He really does look upset. “I’ll accompany you for another walk before the sun sets, alright?” 

The way Sehun’s face lights up with a grin is enough for the slight pain in Yixing’s heart to disappear. “Alright,” Sehun nods, looking triumphant. “I’ll make sure to finish my work by then!”

“Ok,” Yixing smiles, watching with fondness as Sehun scampers back towards his palace, guards in tow. Immediately after Sehun fully disappears he turns towards Jongdae, expectant. 

“Yes?”

“There’s only one reason why Junmyeon would ever greet Sehun at the Kim Clan’s lands, Your Majesty.” 

“I know,” Yixing tilts his head to the side, signalling Jongdae to walk with him.

“They have strict rules when it comes to greeting royalty and nobility. They only allow who _they see fit_ to greet forgein representatives.” 

“Which means that he’s not just the son of a noble but he’s the son of an _important_ one.” Yixing sighs, “None of this makes sense.” 

“They should be bombarding everyone about his whereabouts,” Jongdae frowns. “And it makes even less sense because he doesn’t want us to inform them.” 

“The man arrested for protesting was the son of a noble. The man we held prisoner, and who was held prisoner in enemy territory was thrown into jail. Considering how they value status, he must’ve done something _extremely_ negative for them to disregard his status. _‘If they have the time to deny it, then it’s true.’_ That’s what he said, isn’t it?” 

“His own clan isn’t recognizing him as the son of noble.” Jongdae drums his fingers against his sides, “He did say his comrades betrayed him. Could it be related to that?” 

“We have to take what he says with a grain of salt, _he_ could’ve betrayed _them.”_

“My instincts tell me otherwise, Your Majesty.” 

“Your instincts,” Yixing can’t help but scoff. 

“I know that clan, Your Majesty. Better than most. They value their privacy and their hierarchy more than life itself.” 

“You left when you were little,” Yixing reasons, “My doubts are well backed.” 

“He said he was protesting abuse. Inner and outer. Inner and outer _conflict,_ which we’re unaware of.” Jongdae frowns, “That doesn’t put us in a good position when you look at it through any lens.”

“You can’t possibly believe that.” 

“It, well,” Jongdae hesitates, looking towards the ground. “Give it some thought. The son of a noble is found in an enemy territory, imprisoned. The clan he belongs to, who resides in the land beside the enemy, _supposedly_ doesn’t know he’s there.” 

“Because we haven’t informed them.” 

“Because if they did— and considering Junmyeon’s supposed status— they would insist he be returned to his rightful place. Which they haven’t.” Jongdae points out, the more he continues on the more his frown deepens. “And considering what he said, which is that _they’re_ the reason behind his arrest—” 

“He didn’t say _where_ he was arrested,” It sounds ridiculous to Yixing, hardly believable. And yet, a part of him is curious, largely so. 

“He was protesting for and against his Kingdom.” 

“Supposedly,” Yixing adds. 

“He was _supposedly_ protesting for and against his Kingdom, it only makes sense that he was in the clan while he was doing so.” 

“Then how did he end up in the _enemy’s territory?”_ Yixing huffs, frustrated. 

“That’s what I would like to know too,” Jongdae says as they round the corner towards the Jade Palace. “It just leads to more pressing questions: why didn’t they do anything about it? Either they don’t care for one of their own, which is unlikely. Or they excommunicated, also unlikely because of his status and their loyalty. Or Junmyeon being arrested was an easy solution to something. Something like—” 

“— Junmyeon knowing something he shouldn’t,” Yixing murmurs, trying to keep the shock and disbelief out of his voice. “Knowing whatever he was protesting, which would make them want to get rid of him. Jongdae’s words strike him uneasily, the idea that Junmyeon— who Yixing would have liked to label as a raving madman— might have said the truth. 

“In a way that wouldn’t bring much suspicion onto them. Like getting arrested. ” Jongdae agrees, and his tone makes it clear it doesn’t sit right with him either. This is his clan by birth after all. 

“How would he even be aware of the problems? Both inner and outer.”

“Inner is easy, considering how he was a part of the clan. As for outer, a son of a noble… the chances that his own family was involved is high, Your Majesty.” 

“We’ll discuss this later. That’s enough for now.” They’ve approached the gate, a rickety wooden thing that’s seen better days. 

Fortunately for Yixing, Jongdae decides to listen. “Announcing His Imperial Highness, Emperor of the Zhang Kingdom,” Jongdae pushes the gate open, letting Yixing enter the little courtyard first. 

The grass is overgrown, wildflowers shooting up from the ground in no order. It’s a mess, but it’s liveable. Junmyeon is kneeling down by one of the house walls, visibly startled when Jongdae announces Yixing’s presence.

“Your Majesty,” he greets, slightly out of breath from how fast he got up. Yixing’s eyes instantly fall down, seeing the dirt stains on his clothes, and then his hands. The clump of green right beside where he was. Was he _gardening?_

“What do you think you’re doing?” Yixing blurts out before he can control himself. 

“The weeds were overgrown,” Junmyeon says like it’s obvious, because it is. A silent, _you have eyes, don’t you?_ “I just thought I’d tidy it up a little.” 

“You’re not used to such bad conditions are you, as a son of a noble.” 

“You would be surprised what conditions I’m used to, Your Majesty” Junmyeon replies coolly.

Right. Betrayed by his own comrades. Who were probably from the same Clan. 

“How may I help you?” Junmyeon smiles, dusting off the dirt from his hands. “Surely you didn’t come by here to chat.” 

“Of course not,” Yixing barely had time to breathe these days. Of course he didn’t come to chat. “People are beginning to question who you are.” People means Sehun, who will be used as a right excuse for now. “So it was necessary I run the plan over with you.” 

Junmyeon raises an eyebrow at that, his lips pulled back into a surprising smile. “You came all the way just to see me? If I knew I would’ve prepared some tea.” 

“That’ll be unnecessary.” 

“Right,” Junmyeon responds with a smile, and he’s still standing there. “Am I supposed to invite you inside?” 

“As per custom.” 

“Apologies,” Junmyeon says, but he doesn’t sound apologetic in the slightest. “I thought you would just force me to come inside.” 

“Unless you would _like_ to continue this conversation while the hot sun shines on us.” 

“Please, come in. Excuse the...quality of the place, Your Majesty.” Now _that_ was certainly directed towards Yixing, who walks in first. The place looks just as he remembers it. Small, but not cramped. A bed pushed to one side, a wardrobe pushed to the other. There’s a circular table with two wooden chairs in the center. Perfect. 

“Have a seat,” Junmyeon says, gesturing towards the chair in better condition. Yixing can see it now, how his smile screams amusement. A game. This isn’t a game, Yixing never has the time for games. “What would you like to discuss?” 

Everything about him makes Yixing feel a combination of confusion and frustration. “As I mentioned earlier, you need a cover.” 

“I can think of a few,” Junmyeon smiles wryly. “Prisoner. Fugitive. Freeloader.” 

“All of those are horrible choices,” Yixing frowns.“I’ve already decided something.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon looks around, as if he’s scared someone will overhear. He leans in, letting his voice drop into a whisper. “Concubine?” 

“Tell me, do you find the idea of me killing you right here, appealing?” Yixing asks darkly, like imaginary thunder clouds are rolling in over his head. 

“I don’t know how you expect me to act, Your Majesty.” Junmyeon leans back against his chair, looking at Yixing squarely in the eyes. “You’re being rather secretive about this.” 

“It’s a _private matter,”_ Yixing counters hotly, before he can reign in how Junmyeon is riling him up. “Of course I’m going to be secretive.” 

“Well there’s no need to be theatrical, is there?” He turns towards Jongdae, who was hiding in the shadows against a wall. “What do _you_ think? Is he being dramatic?” 

“Don’t answer him,” Yixing says, looking right at Junmyeon. “And _you,_ don’t test my patience.” 

“My apologies, _again,”_ Junmyeon sighs, “Now what did you decide?” 

“Teaching. As a scholar it works out perfectly.” 

Junmyeon looks terribly unimpressed, the blank look on his face edging towards a look of boredom. “Who?” 

“A close relative of mine.” 

“You trust me that much?” 

“Don’t fool yourself.” Yixing stops, looking Junmyeon in the eye. “I’m only entrusting him to you because their guards won’t hesitate to kill you if they deem necessary.” 

“There you go again, threatening to kill me.” Junmyeon sighs, as if it’s no big deal.

“As for risking your cover, we don’t receive many guests in the palace. Even if we did, there’s no reason for them to ever see you.” 

“Recognizing me won’t be much of a problem,” Junmyeon’s eyes are fixated on the table, and a part of Yixing would like to change that, the other part questions why he wants the attention in the first place. “I didn’t greet many people back home.”

“You greeted a close relative of mine enough that he already recognized you.” 

“I assure you, my family wasn’t so proud of me that they paraded me throughout the land.” Junmyeon pauses, glancing up at Yixing. “In fact, it was quite the opposite.”

“I have a question,” Yixing says suddenly, frowning.

“I’m sure you do,” Junmyeon replies, sounding more tired than anything. 

“Why don’t you want to contact your family?” 

“Just who’s abuse do you think I was protesting?” Junmyeon counters, and now his voice also displays how bored he is. It’s maddeningly infuriating.

“You said inner and outer conflict. Was the inner conflict directly related to your family?” 

“That,” Junmyeon hesitates, and it’s easy to tell that even with his supposed nonchalant attitude, it’s still difficult for him to talk about his family. “It was related to several other noble families as well” 

“What abuse?” 

“That’s not what you came here to discuss, Your Majesty.” 

_“What. Abuse.”_

“Where do I even start?” Junmyeon inhales, closing his eyes as if he’s trying to ward a headache away. “The biggest problem as always, is greed.” 

“Be more specific.” 

“Well that’ll be difficult, Your Majesty.” 

“You’re going to have to try your best if you want to live.” 

“By the dragons,” Junmyeon huffs, “You should be familiar with this as the Emperor you know. It’s the age old problem of choosing between _people or power._ The nobles old money versus the aristocratic new money.” 

Yixing is familiar with this, he just wasn’t aware that the Kim Clan, and apparently several other Northern Clans (Subsections of the Kim Clan, there were too many for Yixing to keep track of. Kim-Shin, Kim-Baek, Kim-Ho and it went on and on and on) were dealing with this as well. It wasn’t a common problem in the main empire considering how the laws sorted it out.

“As you would know, Some nobles and aristocrats are on the people’s side. They want to help build up the North into a division that is fair and right to all.” 

Junmyeon’s knowledge on the subject is impressive. “And others want to use the divide between the rich and the poor to build themselves up.” Yixing continues on for him, intrigued. “What side does your family support? People or power?” 

“I think you can guess,” Junmyeon shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. His reluctance to talk about it proves otherwise. “Power.”

“Which explains what you were protesting.” 

“You’re piecing it together quite well, Your Majesty.” 

“That doesn’t mean you stop explaining.” 

“Of course,” Junmyeon purses his lips, “As it turns out a thirst for power and money brings corruption into the equation. Blackmail, bribery, until you can’t even see the factions anymore. Just a big messy blur of greed.” 

“That doesn’t explain why you were apparently betrayed.” 

“Not apparently,” Junmyeon hums. “And it explains plenty. Think about it, my family, along with several other noble families were on the greedy side. Dealing unfair agreements, using their power to control others in ways they shouldn’t, of course I wouldn’t go along with it.” 

“Of course?” Yixing questions, “Seems to me like you think rather highly of yourself.” 

“I think I’m humane, if anything.” Junmyeon’s words are chilly, like the first sprinkle of snow in the wintertime. “My people, even with their good points, lack the understanding I gained through my studies. What they were doing, the fighting, was plain wrong. And hurt more people than it should have.” 

“So you were protesting the fighting?” 

“I was protesting the blatant abuse against people who didn’t favour the side that chose power.” 

“The side that chose power. Like your family.” 

“What do you gain out of dangling those words in front of my face?” Junmyeon scowls. “Yes my family, along with several others.” 

“Yes, but you don’t want them, as in your family, to be informed that you’re alive. Given how you shared different beliefs regarding this divide, I can only assume that they were the ones who betrayed you. Which is why they didn’t want to find you, because when one of their own family members protests what they’re doing,” Yixing pauses to look Junmyeon in the eyes, wants Junmyeon to remember this moment for as long as he’s breathing. “It makes it clear that they were in the wrong.” 

“I thought I made that clear when I asked you who’s abuse you thought I was protesting.” Junmyeon keeps his eyes locked on Yixing, and he sees it now. A low flame burning in them, his anger simmering along with it. “Satisfied, Your Majesty?” Junmyeon says, as if the words are being pulled out of his mouth. 

“Not quite.” Yixing replies, with just as much emotion. “It doesn’t explain how you ended up in the enemy territory.” 

“There’s a rather simple explanation to that, Your Majesty.” 

“And that is?"

“I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

“Try me.” 

“Well, since you asked. My arrest and the outer conflict? That was caused by the same thing.” 

“And that is?” Yixing asks, his patience thinning by the second. Now who was being theatrical. Dramatic. _Suspenseful,_ even. 

“The Kim Clan is betraying you in order to help the enemy.” 

Betrayal, in Yixing’s eyes, was primarily caused by the need for more. More power, riches, political reach— the possibilities were endless. Of course he was going to be familiar with it, he gained the throne, the much wanted title of Emperor, by betraying his family. Killing off his siblings one by one to ensure that there was no competition. 

The eldest, as usual, was meant to get the throne and he was arrogant because of it. Treating everyone around him like a lesser being simply because of a birthright he was given. Not a birthright he owned or earned. He’s the one Yixing remembers the most, the contempt on his face, the way he sneered at everyone who wasn’t the Emperor. Or Yixing’s favourite memory of him, the way his face had twisted in fear right before Yixing had driven his blade into his heart, killing him for good. 

The Crown Princess was spoiled to the core. She could get anything she wanted by just waving her hand thanks to how she had the Emperor wrapped around her fingers. She was the most manipulative, even harder to kill compared to the Crown Prince because she had bigger favour among the people. The memories of her are dusty and clouded, unimportant, Yixing would say. She was beautiful, and as a result of the constant praise, vain. It took more planning to kill her, a few paid off messengers, her most trusted servant killed off until Yixing could slip poison in her tea drop by drop until she gradually died. 

There were two other siblings, unimportant and menial in Yixing’s eyes. They believed they would never get the throne, and were weak because of it. They were the easiest to stamp out, unprepared and unaware of Yixing’s relentless plotting. Fools. 

The only sibling he let live was Sehun, who was just a baby at the time. There were times where he wondered if he should’ve let him be dealt with, so there was no real threat to his position, but Sehun felt no loyalty towards his dead siblings. 

But this betrayal. The implication that one of the founding clans, who supported Yixing when he was vying for the position of Emperor. Who helped him climb up the ladder as the third prince, and convince people that he was the right choice, is unbelievable. This idea, the ridiculous notion that Junmyeon is spewing makes Yixing want to unsheathe his sword, and deal with the nuisance in front of him. 

“Scholars aren’t meant to joke.” Yixing comments instantly, before he can even process what Junmyeon is claiming. The words almost shut him down, and it takes a lot of effort to now swivel in his chair to look at Jongdae and demand he drag Junmyeon out of there. “But that was a very fine joke right there.”

“Emperors aren’t supposed to be unaware of what's going on outside their kingdom.” Junmyeon counters easily. “Although in this case it’s understandable.” 

“You can’t expect me to just believe you,” Yixing shakes his head, and it doesn’t do justice to portray how much disbelief he feels right now. As a founding clan it was near impossible that they would even _dare_ to betray Yixing. Given how he had one consecutive win after the other with their battles, nothing made sense. 

“Let’s say you do believe me—” 

“I don’t.” 

“Let’s imagine you do.” Junmyeon insists, “Because everything falls into place when you think about it.” 

“Nothing, let me say that again, _nothing,_ ” Yixing stresses heavily, “Falls into place when you accuse a founding clan of betraying me.” Does Junmyeon even realize the weight of his words? The confidence he has makes Yixing want to break him, snap him in half and teach him what the word humility means. 

“You seemed unfazed by the bribery and corruption but it’s the betrayal that upsets you?” 

“As a part of the empire, where they are considered to be _my people,_ of course I’m going to be disbelieving.” Yixing bites, trying to not let the anger seep into his voice. “If that helps to put some perspective in your insane, ridiculous mind.”

“What doesn’t make sense, Your Majesty.” Junmyeon looks at Yixing evenly. “I’ll try to explain it to you as clearly as I can.” 

“As a founding clan who I give preference to, there’s no reason for them to betray me.” 

“How simple-minded,” Junmyeon frowns, “Think about it. The Kim Clan and all the subsections take up the entire Northern Faction. The enemy lands, the corner _you_ drove them to, borders the Northern lands.” 

“And what about it?” 

“The Kim Clan likes their power, as well as their privacy. How would they gain more power if they’re stuck up in the North by themselves? By gaining more land.” 

“...Go on.”

“You don’t need to ponder about it when it’s all written out. They’re working with the enemy, to gain more power. As for the protesters, they needed a quick solution to get rid of them. The quick solution? Ship the protesters off to the enemy land, secretly so they could be written off as casualties of war.” 

Yixing’s silence is meant to shut Junmyeon up, but he takes it as a cue to keep talking. 

“It explains the inner conflict quite well actually,” Junmyeon pauses, as if that’s only occurring to him now. “I never thought about it like that, huh.” 

“Are you serious?” Yixing demands, “So you just told me without your words actually holding any truth?” 

“No they held the truth, it’s just… the realization is settling in.” 

“Realization?” Yixing repeats skeptically. 

“My own family let me be locked up because I was protesting the abuse that they were causing by working with the enemy. I’m allowed to feel heartbroken for a moment, right Your Majesty?” Junmyeon looks anything but heartbroken, even if there’s a lingering sadness in his eyes. It’s like he can’t make up his mind about the situation. He feels burning anger one moment and deep sadness the next. Regardless he shields himself with a wall of self-depreciation and fake nonchalance. A wall Yixing is determined to crack and break. Eventually.

Yixing taps his fingers against the decaying table. “And the outer conflict?” 

“Also explainable by the betrayal. The other Northern Clans, the Kim-Subsections, are starting to see that things aren’t adding up. They would consider the clans who are close proximity to themThey’ve figured out _someone_ is betraying the empire but they’re unable to find out who. Mainly because the ringleaders of the North, the Clan Kim” 

_“You’re_ clan,” Yixing points out, wondering if it’s even possible that someone born into the Kim Clan can hold such little loyalty to them. 

“The Clan Kim,” Junmyeon continues on, as if he hasn’t heard a single word Yixing has said in the past few minutes. “Are the ones betraying the empire, out of greed, and also happen to be leading the investigation trying to find the culprit.”

“Ridiculous.” Yixing doesn’t want to even think about it, because if he does, it’ll start making sense. If it starts to make sense then he’ll have a much bigger problem on his hands. 

“Plausible.” 

“It’s...beyond belief.” 

“Not if you spend more than two minutes thinking about it, Your Majesty.” Junmyeon hastily adds, he’s recognized that he’s crossed a line. The way he twists his fingers anxiously shows as much.

 _“Enough.”_ Yixing commands, getting up from his seat. The chair scrapes across the floor, emitting an ugly sound that resonates through the room. Junmyeon’s eyes track Yixing’s movements, they’re glaring right at him.

“What do you need to believe me? Proof?” 

“Of course I need proof!” Yixing snaps, “I’d be a fool to believe you based on words and non-existant merit alone!”

“I have proof,” Junmyeon utters quietly, his eyes shining brightly. ““I know how they work. I know of their doings. But I have proof as well,” 

Yixing pulls the chair back, sitting back down on it angrily. He looks at Junmyeon, glares at him really, “Why didn’t you mention that in the first place?” 

“I hoped I could convince you without it.” 

“You’re a fool,” Yixing says, annoyed. 

“It makes sense, you know it does Your Majesty.” 

“You’re not unintelligent,” Yixing looks down on him, “You know I need proof. Whether you ridiculous _claims_ make sense or not I can’t act on them unless you provide me with something concrete.” Junmyeon doesn’t necessarily have to provide Yixing with anything, if the report that the spies he will now be sending to the North match what he says. “Whether your words hold the truth doesn’t matter. I can’t trust the declarations of an imprisoned man. Noble’s son or not.” 

“I’m telling you I have proof.” 

“I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you,” Yixing says coldly. _“What_ is your proof, hm?” 

“I have a dossier, a collection of letters really, sent back and forth between a few enemy leaders and my own.” Junmyeon worries at his lip, avoiding eye contact with Yixing. He’s not lying, Yixing knows that much. 

“And you chose to withhold that information because?” 

“It’s… hard to access.” 

_“Clarify,”_ Yixing demands, feeling like his words should be scorching Junmyeon by now. 

“The dossiers have been placed securely in my study. In the Kim Clan.” 

“So we travel to the North to get it,” Yixing frowns, “That’s hardly a big deal.” 

“It’s located in my study, securely and hidden well I assure you, in a place where if unprovoked, they won’t find it. My study, however, was written as off-limits from the moment I rebelled.” 

“And I can’t just, oh I don’t know, demand to go into your study because?” 

“They’ll find it,” Junmyeon says flatly. “And they’ll destroy it.” 

“It appears we’ve reached a crossroad,” Yixing muses, even if he’s already thinking many steps ahead. The Kim Clan’s favoured privacy was beginning to be a very big problem. They wouldn’t let Yixing visit without a notice beforehand, and they would try to destroy all evidence if he announced a visit. Trying to find evidence to destroy would lead to them ransacking Junmyeon’s study, which would lead to them finding the proof. “And somehow, this is impossible.” Yixing shakes his head, “You’ve managed to make this situation more complicated than it already is.” 

“Surely you didn’t expect me to just carelessly walk around with the potential downfall of my clan, did you Your Majesty?” Junmyeon quirks an eyebrow up at Yixing. 

“No, I suppose not. For now you’ll be tasked with something else.” 

“I don’t know how to appease you, Your Majesty,” Junmyeon purses his lips, “What will that task be?”

“Create a detailed account of the events you described. You know what that entails, right?” 

“That’d be close to impossible,” Junmyeon frowns, and Yixing knows it is. That’s why he said he wanted it. An account that recorded the dates, times, people involved, towns and villages any information Junmyeon knows will have to be recorded in the proper format. It’s time consuming, and tedious, but if Junmyeon is serious about his claims he’ll do it.

“Close to impossible isn’t unworkable,” Yixing answers calmly. “You knowing and them admitting are two very, very, separate things. When you add temporarily unattainable proof it really doesn’t look well for you. If you want me to even think about believing you, you should do as I say.” 

“And I can’t recall every little detail?” 

“You must, or you’ll have to makedo. Otherwise you can consider your life to be on a timer. We both know I have no problems setting up an execution date for someone who spouts nonsense.” Yixing says straight-forwardly.

“As you wish, Your Majesty. However, I will need the proper stationeries.” 

“I’ll take care of that, you just need to get it done.” Yixing turns around so he can exit the dump of a palace. Junmyeon frowns, watching as Yixing makes his way towards the door. Yixing pauses at the door, turning around so he can look at Junmyeon properly. The prisoner looks tense, and pale in his seat. Like the confidence is slowly being drained from him one drop at a time. Good. 

“Have I made myself clear?” 

Junmyeon pulls his gaze away from his locked hands, looking at the Emperor as confidently as he can. “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

“Good. It would be best if you listened to my... _advice_ after all.”

When he leaves the Jade Palace with Jongdae in tow, the silence starts to smother him. As if the wind is also whispering in his ears that what Junmyeon claims makes sense. Every step Yixing takes makes him feel like he’s sinking deep into the stones. One foot at a time, reminding him that no matter how much he sacrificed, it could all fall apart if he doesn’t diligently do his work. If he doesn’t maintain a good appearance, if he doesn’t keep the clans that form his empire happy, the very foundation Yixing has worked so hard to build will crumble and fall as if nothing was ever built in the first place. 

He keeps expecting Jongdae to say something, but it’s clear the guard is also thinking hard about Junmyeon’s strange words. His strange personality. A member of the loyal and private Kim Clan, the son of a noble no less, openly admitting they were betraying Yixing. On top of the betrayal, he had gone on and on about corruption and greed, nobles and aristocrats, all the things that wouldn’t be causing Yixing such a big headache if he chose to just execute Junmyeon. 

The words keep flashing in front of his eyes. Abuse. Betrayal. Conflict. Dossier, hidden in his study of all things. It’s maddening, like sitting in the dark when you know something is out there, waiting to grab you. 

“He’s gone mad,” Yixing eventually says when they’re a good distance away from the Jade Palace. Breaking the silence that was slowly starting to suffocate him. He can’t stand it. “It’s the only explanation I can create to excuse his nonsensical blabbering.” It wasn’t nonsensical in the slightest, Yixing knows this even if he’s saying it. “And personally I think he should be executed.” 

“Your Majesty,” Jongdae’s eyebrows furrow, “You and I both know it wasn’t nonsensical. He may be on the crazier side, but he hasn’t gone mad yet.” 

“It’s an easier explanation,” Yixing grouses, “Much easier then the messy tale he just wove.” 

“It seemed more like the truth than a tale,” Jongdae looks down at his feet, “I’m quite surprised we didn’t piece it together ourselves.”

“There was nothing to piece together,” Yixing huffs, still adamantly against the whole notion. Or trying to be. “He’s the most infuriating person in the Empire. Of course the one person who would hold the answers is.” 

“There were plenty of things to piece together. Were you not listening to a word he said?” 

“I was listening, it was just hard to _keep_ listening.” 

“The reasoning behind not wanting to contact his parents. The abuse that was happening but inside and outside the clan. The power struggles between the nobles and aristocrats.” Jongdae sticks a finger up with every point. “Not to mention the inner and outer conflict caused by all of those things.” 

“You’re forgetting the most memorable one.” It’s obvious which one that is. 

“He revealed all of that in one sitting, mind you.” 

“That’s not a good thing,” Yixing frowns, “He shouldn’t have shown us all his cards like that.” 

“Unless he had a reason to,” Jongdae muses aloud. 

“And that is?” 

“He has nothing to lose.” Jongdae looks over at Yixing, “Which he doesn’t. Other than his life, which he’s proven to not care about.” 

“It’s ridiculous,” Yixing shakes his head. “Preposterous. We’ll need to focus on the inner abuse first. If we sort that out then the rest of the problems will come crashing down. I’d rather not interfere with the North but if the nobles are fighting so badly the commoners are getting involved I will have to.” 

“You know, you should discuss it with him.” 

“Have you lost your mind too?” Yixing asks, unimpressed. “I have no business, nor the time to waste, especially with him.” 

“He knows how the clan works. He knows the most details about all the problems in the Northern region. “ Jongdae shrugs, “I don’t see why not, Your Majesty.” 

“He’s a prisoner,” Yixing reminds him. “Who could be lying.” 

“I don’t think he is, and I’m trained to be able to discern lies.” 

“You’re playing a game with me. Just like he’s playing a game with us. As the son of a noble, how do we know this isn’t some elaborate scheme for all the North to fall into his hands?” 

“Now that, Your Majesty, is even more unlikely than all the supposed ‘nonsense’ he spouted today.” 

“This is, it’s unbelievable. Surely you didn’t believe him for a second.”

“Your Majesty, as much as I would like to agree he answered all our questions without us even needing to ask.” 

“What questions were those?” Yixing demands, “And what does that have to do with anything? Everything he just blabbered in there was nonsense!” 

“He laid it out for us in a way so simple we can’t deny it,” Jongdae looks up to the sky, troubles. “Why was he arrested? He was protesting the age-old fight of power versus the people. Why didn’t his clan, his family, do anything about his arrest? Because he sided with the people, and they sided with power. Specifically because he was protesting against the abuse they inflicted in the arguments. Abuse which defines the inner conflict.” 

“Conflict that is directly related to his family, how can we tell he’s not lying about that?” 

“Because the Kim Clan breeds loyalty. He would never rat them out unless he firmly believed what they were doing is wrong. Unless they had wronged him first.” 

“You have too much trust in him,” Yixing says hotly. “For someone you just met, this is ridiculous.” 

“He even explained why he was in enemy territory. And even if he didn’t, his words explained it for us.” 

“You explain that,” Yixing starts, fuming. “You explain how he ended up there because his own clan essentially threw him to the enemy to rot, and let me know what it sounds like to you. Because quite frankly, it sounds like _garbage_ to me. A founding clan going against the empire?” 

“You know it makes sense, Your Majesty,” Jongdae says quietly. “As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. After that explanation everything did fall into place.” 

“Everything like _what?_ The brain trauma he probably suffered in prison that made him crazy?” 

“He was arrested because he was protesting against a huge faction in the clan. He ended up in enemy prisons because it was an easy solution to the Kim Clan’s problems. He was _able_ to end up in enemy prisons because the Kim Clan is secretly working with the enemy, out of _greed.”_ Jongdae takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to calm himself down, “The same greed Junmyeon was protesting. So of course the enemy would comply with their demands, it would help them as well. The only slip up was that the Kim Clan thought the enemy would take care of him, and we just got there first.” 

“So the Kim Clan, even Junmyeon’s direct family, don't know he’s alive?” Yixing taps his fingers against his sides. A nervous tick, one he’s been unable to get rid of even after all he’s gained. 

“Exactly. It even explains why the North hasn’t contacted you yet.” Jongdae pauses, and Yixing takes the moment to inhale deeply. “Because the other Northern Clans don’t know who’s betraying the empire. But if they get you involved, it would be a risk to all of them. They prioritize themselves, especially because it’s only them up in the North.” 

It does make sense, and Yixing dreads how much Jongdae’s points hit the nail on the head. The Kim Clan worked with the enemy to expand their territory, but that meant betraying the side who helped them become a recognizable faction in the first place. That meant they were breaking the treaties Yixing had painstakingly crafted after days of sleepless nights.

“Besides, we both know if they had contacted you immediately, your impatience would’ve gotten the best of you and you would have ended all their lives. There’s no point if all of them would have ended up dead, Your Majesty.” 

“I can still arrange for that,” Yixing mutters darkly, his jaw clenched. 

“But you shouldn’t.” Jongdae counters, as if he has the choice to disobey if Yixing were to give the word out. “Because that would just make the situation worse.”

“I can’t believe it,” Yixing mutters, “It makes sense. Too much sense.” 

“It’s possible,” Jongdae sighs. “All too possible. The only problem is with the proof. At the moment we’re assuming this based on his words alone.” 

“How can we believe him if we have no proof? How could he say it with such… _conviction_ if he had no proof?” Yixing frowns. “Of course I understand he _claims_ to have proof, but it’s no use to us if we can’t see it for ourselves.” 

“He was betting on it making sense.” Jongdae sounds a little amazed. “As crazy as it seems, he must really hope we believe him. We need to confirm that the dossier exists first.”

“What would he have done if we hadn’t found him?” Yixing murmurs, and the fact that one little twist of fate would have saved him from this hassle is infuriating. “What would he have done had I just killed him on the spot?” 

“He had the emblem on him. He was counting on that too, I suppose.” 

“Luck. He was counting on luck, an emblem, and an unreachable document, to aid him with his outrageous little theories.” 

“I agree, Your Majesty. It was a bold move on his part, but he is smart after all.” Jongdae pauses, looking at Yixing carefully to make sure he hasn’t upset him. “I hate to say it, but it makes an awful lot of sense.” 

Yixing hates to say it too, hence why he keeps his mouth shut about it. “I was already planning on sending some spies up to the North,” Yixing sighs, feeling drained even though it’s just the start of his day. “They’ll have to look around for rumours. Check if his study was even written off in the first place and if it is… Well it’s not like they can just break in anyways.”

“We’d have to go and see for ourselves,” Jongdae frowns, “It’s not a sturdy plan at all.” 

“We’ll wait until we hear what the spies have to say, and then we’ll make a decision. Besides if we do go… we’ll have to bring him with us And I’d rather we don’t.” 

“A wise choice Your Majesty.” 

“I’m beginning to regret letting Sehun meet him, is there no way to avoid that?” 

“It’s his cover story, Your Majesty, unless you would like him teaching Prince Chanyeol.” 

“That sounds disastrous,” Yixing squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the tip of his nose hard. “What’s next on my schedule?” He needs a distraction, a good one to stave away the headache that’s starting to lurk at the front of his head. 

“Three audiences, and a meeting with the city’s finance director. I believe he wants you to visit his estate, shall I prepare an excuse?” 

“I don’t need an excuse, I’m too busy to attend anyways.” 

“That’s fair, Your Majesty.” 

They walk in silence back to the Emerald Palace, Yixing’s in no mood to talk— especially since Junmyeon’s words weigh him down. He’s exhausted, to the bone, but he can’t spare any time. 

“Jongdae?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” 

“Make sure he’s given the necessary equipment to make tea by tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Late Night

Yixing goes out of his way to make sure he never runs into Junmyeon, but he does watch him from afar. His spies have been sent to the North and have yet to report back to him, so he bides his time carefully. Continues as he was so there are no suspicions raised.

As it turns out, Junmyeon is good at his job. So good in fact Yixing almost regrets not ‘hiring’ him earlier, so good Yixing also wishes he had never introduced him to Sehun in the first place. Sehun’s newfound enthusiasm towards learning proves that. Yixing has never seen the younger be so interested in something as boring as basic level calculations and the long droning passages in his history books.

Junmyeon is excellent with kids, makes learning seem interesting, and has managed to make the Jade Palace look less like a dump by convincing the maids (behind Yixing’s back, he should add. What’s the point of hiring people he’s vetted and checked only for them to do that? He should have the killed, really, but the Jade Palace looks more liveable now so how can he?). Yixing would be fuming by now if it weren’t for how intrigued he is. 

Here’s a man, proposing outrageous notions to Yixing boldly, living on his land as a prisoner, yet he seems to feel no fear. He had no concrete proof on hand for his accusations, and was claiming that only _he_ could get the proof. Junmyeon, as it seems, doesn’t care about his life in the slightest. He lives, and breathes off subtly annoying Yixing into visiting him, and sending passive-aggressive messages through his closed-lipped smiles.

In a way, Yixing wants to scare him, imbue some inkling of fear into him so he, at the least, will hesitate to look Yixing in the eyes, but it’s proven to be difficult. Every attempt Yixing makes is struck down by some witty remark or entertaining musing that makes the Emperor stop and think: This man is truly mad. 

He’s at the Jade Palace now, for reasons unexplainable. He reasons it’s because Sehun had a favour to ask of him, and not how conversations with Junmyeon made him feel... _energized._ Like a burst of electricity was rushing through his veins.

“How are Sehun’s studies faring?” Yixing asks absentmindedly, taking a small sip of his tea. It’s rather sweet for his liking, but he doesn’t feel like asking for another cup. 

He can’t help but notice that in the past few weeks the condition of the Jade Palace had improved greatly. The chairs look clean, the bed is made properly, and the table doesn’t wobble at the slightest touch anymore. Yixing has no recollection of ordering any of it to be fixed, which means Jongdae is behind it. And the maids Junmyeon had bribed with his _‘good looks’_ and _‘charmingly adorable smile’_ as Jongdae had reported to him with a straight-face, having just talked to the maids.

“He’s a very bright child, Your Majesty. It’s a wonder that he’s been stuck on the same level for so long.” 

“Yes well, stubbornness works wonders preventing one from learning.” 

“I wouldn’t call it stubbornness,” Junmyeon sets his tea-cup down. “Reluctance if anything.” 

“He was unmotivated to learn, and refused to learn because of it. Stubbornness.” 

“He was unmotivated to learn, and as a result he didn’t want to do it. Reluctance.” Junmyeon smiles, “But how is he doing? It’s been a few days since our last lesson.” 

“He’s well,” Yixing answers curtly. It’s impossible to ignore how fond Sehun is slowly becoming towards his new teacher, Junmyeon must have really inspired his studies because now all the younger did was read. “On the topic of Sehun, he actually requested something from me regarding you.” 

“Did he?” Junmyeon blinks, and from his look alone Yixing can see that he had no idea of Sehun’s out-of-the-blue request. Which is good because if Yixing had even gotten the slightest hint that Junmyeon had put him up to it, he would kill him. No questions needed.

Yixing sets his tea cup down now, he can’t help but notice they have matching ones. No, he’s being ridiculous, it’s a matched set. Of course the cups would have the same style. Had he always been this foolish, or was foolishness showing up more now that he could match wits with someone? “Sehun has requested you be granted permission to use the royal library. Of course I can’t help but wonder, did you set him up for it?” 

There were loopholes if Junmyeon wanted more books. He could request the books to be ordered under the excuse that they were for Sehun’s education. Further reading material. Of course, if Junmyeon valued his life that wouldn’t be an option because he would be attempting to deceive Yixing, but Junmyeon clearly doesn’t value his life, so anything could be possible. 

“No,” Junmyeon says, “Of course not, Your Majesty.” 

“Would you like that?” Yixing finds himself asking, even though he doesn’t particularly care. Or so he would like to think. He picks the cup up for another sip. “It can be arranged. Certain time slots and even the access itself, so long as the assigned guards are with you.” 

“That would be…” Junmyeon inhales, tapping his fingers against his tea cups. Yixing doesn’t get it, he thought Junmyeon would be overjoyed, but he looks more cautious now. Maybe he’s scared Yixing is baiting him, but regardless Yixing doesn’t need to bait him to get what he wants. Junmyeon is sworn to him after all. “Marvelous, Your Majesty.” 

“Had I known sooner I could have arranged for it much earlier.” 

“You mean if _I_ had asked?” Junmyeon questions, his voice dripping with disbelief. 

“No,” Yixing denies, “If Sehun had requested it earlier.” 

“I figured as much,” Junmyeon shrugs, “But on the topic of Prince Sehun… he did mention something interesting to me earlier.” Junmyeon is trying too hard to keep his tone conversational and Yixing can see right through it. 

“Interesting how?” Sehun was a young boy after all. His interests could range from myths about the dragons to whatever gruesome sword fight the townspeople were betting to watch.

“He told me about a festival. The one for the dragons,” Junmyeon clarifies, “It’s happening soon, isn’t it?” 

“Within the next two weeks, yes.” Yixing answers slowly, unsure of where Junmyeon is trying to go with this. 

“And it happens every forty years?” 

Yixing nods in answer.

“Certainly a strange amount of time if you ask me, but surely there’s a reason behind it. He went on talking about it for hours and hours, saying he was too young to go now, but he’s excited to go in the future. He’ll be quite old by then I suppose but it seems wonderful though—” 

“Get to the point.” 

“Will you be attending?” Junmyeon asks so suddenly, and so earnestly it takes Yixing back. 

The tea cup almost slips from Yixing’s hand, and replays the moment in his head. Imagining the pretty cup falling and shattering against the ground, sharp pieces strewn everywhere. “No. Why would I?”

“You’ve already decided then,” If he wasn’t paying attention, the disappointment in Junmyeon’s voice would be inaudible, but there’s something else along with the disappointment: disapproval. And it grates Yixing’s ears. 

“I have no reason to go.” It’s true, he’s buried under the amount of work he has to do. People to appoint to his new land, announcements to make regarding the war they’ve won. Why would he ever attend a time-consuming festival? 

“Really? I can think of plenty.” 

“Try me,” Yixing says, placing the tea cup down. It’s too warm for his hands.

“You’ve spent your life living in this palace and you’ve probably never attended this festival, or any festival before, have you?” Junmyeon pauses, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes. “If Sehun will be old by the time one comes around, imagine how much you would have aged, Your Majesty. You’ll be ancient by the time the next one comes around.”

“I won’t be,” Yixing says stonily. “I _have_ attended festivals before.” 

“Not this one you haven’t. Imagine how happy this festival would be, how excited the people are that they can experience it now, before it dips back into history for another forty years.” 

“Regardless, there’s no difference to me between this festival and the next. I’ve attended so many I’ve grown numb to the excitement.” 

“But have you,” Junmyeon pauses, walking closer to his desk. Yixing sees Jongdae’s hand slip towards his blade, ready in case anything happens. _“Attended._ ” 

“I just said I have. Should I have made it more clear?” Yixing’s voice drops into something mocking. “I have attended plenty of festivals. More than enough for my lifetime.” 

Nothing would come close to the festival the empire held when Yixing had claimed the throne and crown once and for all. The rush Yixing had felt when the crowds cheered for him, how full of energy and spirit he was delivering his short speeches to ensure their favour. The downside of people who had lost due to his victory, people desperate enough to try and kill him even during the festivities.

“I’m not talking about the formal kind. Of course you’ve attended, but as the emperor. You go and deliver your heart-warming, blessed speeches before retreating back to the palace. You don’t actually _attend_ the festival, you make an appearance and call it a night.” 

“I see no problem with that.”

“I do.” Junmyeon answers, deadpanned.“Have you ever actually _participated_ in the festivals? Walked around, enjoyed the sights and smells of a busy, thriving festival before?”

“Why would I ever do that?” Yixing asks, blunt. “It sounds like a waste of time.” 

“That’s the whole point of a festival Your Majesty!” Junmyeon sounds astounded. 

“That’s not the point at all. The point is to honour the dragons,” Yixing frowns. 

“The point is the _experience,”_ Junmyeon tries, and Yixing doesn’t know why he’s insisting so hard. Or why he’s listening in the first place. “The people, although I’m sure they care about the festival, go for the fun of it. For the feeling of running around at night, lanterns and lights twinkling, and the food, warm and spicy—” 

“I see you like festivals.” 

“It’s,” Junmyeon hesitates. “I have very fond memories of the festivals back home.” _Oh,_ that explains why he suddenly looks mellow. “And they always said it’s nothing compared to the festivals here.”

“As someone who’s gone, I can tell you it’s not as impressive as it seems. It’s always messy, and loud. Children running and screaming everywhere, do you know where the last time I heard people scream so loud was?” 

“Where?” 

“The battlefield.” 

Junmyeon winces, “It would still be an experience for you, Your Majesty.” 

“I’ve experienced plenty.” 

“Festivals?” 

“Other things.” 

_“Like?”_

“Silence,” Yixing says, just to remind Junmyeon of his place. “I’ve experienced hardships, and battles. Loss of life and the struggle that comes with it. I’ve experienced more than enough for this lifetime.” 

“But you’ve hardly experienced your Kingdom as it is,” Junmyeon argues, blowing the hair out of his frustration. “My fondness for festivals aside, aren’t you _curious?_ Aren’t you curious about your _people?_ Why do they enjoy festivals so much? How do you expect to quell that curiosity when you’re holed up in here, Your Majesty?” 

“I have no desire to _participate,_ as you say, in this festival.” Yixing frowns, “And I know plenty thanks to my informants,”

“I wasn’t talking about _knowledge,_ I was talking about _experience.”_

“And so what if I haven’t gained the experience? It’s not like this will be useful on the battlefield. Or in my meetings with generals. ” 

“You want the Clans to listen to you, correct?” 

“How sudden,” Yixing murmurs, “I don’t recall ever telling you that, nor do I see how it relates to the topic on hand.” 

“You don’t need to tell me that, it’s common sense,” Junmyeon rests his elbow on the table, propping his face up using his fist. “Especially because of the recent information I gave you. You, like all leaders, want a strong grip on all your factions and Kingdoms and your precious empire. I’m _not unintelligent._ As you said, Your Majesty.” 

Oh, how tempting it would be to just give the execution order. He would be done with this nonsense. Just a wave of his hand and the nuisance in front of him would cease to exist. 

“These clans, they don’t inform you out of fear. Who’s fear, you might ask?” Junmyeon presses, adamant to get his point across. Yixing eyes the sword resting against the wall. A decorative piece really, it’s too dull to be useful but it would be so easy to reach over and just— “The people. All of these clans have a deeper understanding of their people. And in this case, how the people fear you. The Kim Clan is taking advantage of how much the subsections fear you.” 

“If anything, the clans are having trouble _because_ of the people. As you said.” 

“Who _else_ is going to cause the problems Your Majesty,” Junmyeon asks, his nose scrunched. “The cattle?” 

“I’m struggling to see your point,” Yixing says coldly. 

“You need to see your citizens yourself!” Junmyeon exclaims, pinching the tip of his nose. “If you want them to listen to you, you need to understand where they’re coming from— how they live. With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Junmyeon pauses, his foot tapping away. “You won’t be able to understand them when you’re sitting all cozy and warm in the most secure place of the entire Kingdom.” 

“So what do you propose I do?” Yixing sighs. 

“The festival.” 

“What about it?” 

_“Go_ to the festival,” Junmyeon sounds determined. The steely edge in his voice is not hostile, but confident. Cold in order to achieve what he wants. 

And _that_ is what Junmyeon has been trying to get Yixing to do this whole time. That whole spiel about the experience, his fond memories. A ploy, really, and Yixing had walked right into it.

“A festival,” Yixing repeats, incredulous. “You want _me_ to come with you to a festival. Every time we meet you always propose something more outrageous than the last suggestion. Last week it was paintings, this week it’s going to a festival. Don’t be ridiculous,” Yixing scoffs, “I could never—”

“You could never?” Junmyeon repeats, incredulous. _“You_ the _Emperor,_ could never. You’re the most powerful man in the entire _Empire._ You can do whatever you want,” he huffs, cross. “Besides you’ve said you’ve been there before.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” 

“My _grandest_ apologies, Your Majesty.” 

_“Junmyeon.”_ Yixing’s eyes flash, the low warning silently taunting Junmyeon. _Don’t test me._ “I can if I _wanted_ to, but I certainly don’t. And _besides_ I know you want to participate not just attend, so my foot is down.” A speech? Sure, Yixing could write one of those in his sleep, has people _hired_ to do that while he sleeps. Actually go to the festival? Be among the people? No thanks.

“Were you not listening to a word I said, Your Majesty? Are you so old that your ears are starting to fail you, Your Majesty?” With every _‘Your Majesty’_ Junmyeon drops, the more pressing and the more mocking his voice becomes. “In order to understand how your people work, how _other Kingdom’s citizens_ work, you need to be willing to put in effort.” 

“I am willing!” Yixing snaps, ready to hit the table with his fists. “Just not for this!” 

“You don’t get to pick and choose!” Junmyeon raises his voice, and the frustration is visible in his eyes. “You don’t get to pick and choose what aspects of power you like and don’t like.” 

Something clicks in Yixing’s brain, quiet and important. That was the problem with Junmyeon, of course. His insults were quiet, almost undetectable, but _true._ Sure, Junmyeon enjoyed his wealth and the opportunities it gave, but he didn’t enjoy the corruption and greed. As he was from a powerful family, those things unfortunately went hand in hand together. He could be trying to help Yixing, but this was personal. His family failed to see how they were hurting the people, failed to understand them, and now if Yixing chose to punish them, they would pay the price. And if Yixing did choose to punish them, it would be Junmyeon’s fault. 

“This has nothing to do with power,” Yixing says, more calm now as he stands up from his chair. The chair scrapes against the floor, and it’s impossible to ignore how Junmyeon winces. Yixing blames it on the awful noise.

“Why doesn’t it?” Junmyeon demands, as if he’s forgotten Yixing could give the order to end his life with a single hand gesture. “These people, the control you have over them. Your own _people._ They’re the real reason why you're an Emperor. The reason you even have power in the first place.” 

“They had nothing to do with it,” The tea cups rest on the table, cold and forgotten. _Like you,_ Yixing thinks cruelly. “I worked for this position, I did whatever I had to do to obtain it.” 

“And it’s because of them you still have it.” Junmyeon finishes his sentence quietly. “It’s not like I’m asking for a lot, and clearly it’s not _entirely_ for my sake either.”

“Really?” Yixing asks, sarcasm dripping off his voice. “A nice outing to the capital, where you’ll attend a mighty and fun festival, where you can go and enjoy the _sights and smells,”_ He’s definitely mocking Junmyeon. “Isn’t something you want to go to for your own sake?” 

“You’re not listening,” Junmyeon blinks, smiling even though he’s displeased. The same smile a market vendor would give to kids who accidentally broke their goods. “You are a stubborn, _stubborn,_ man your Highness. With selective hearing. I said not _entirely_ for my sake.” 

“Regardless, It’s not right.” 

“It’s not right,” Junmyeon repeats, and now he’s the one who’s tone is mocking. “Well nothing about this situation,” he gestures between the two of them. “Is right. Nothing about how I ended up here is right, and nothing about how you’re just sitting here while betrayal goes on right underneath your nose, is right.” 

“I’m biding my time.”

“Right. But right now we have an advantage, Your Majesty. We know what they’re doing, while they are unaware that we don’t.So if you really want to make use of the advantage, you’ll probably have to make sacrifices. Knowledge makes the sacrifices necessary. Regardless of whether they’re _right_ or not.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know what you meant,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “You meant _proper._ You think the citizens will lose respect for you if they see you having as much fun as them.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There are ways to get you there without anyone knowing,” Junmyeon gestures to the empty seat in front of him, and Yixing sits down. He completely forgot he was standing up in the first place. 

“What ways?” Yixing scowls. 

“Well firstly, Sehun told me that masks were very important for this festival, so why don’t we start with how your face can be covered fully.” 

“And secondly?”

“ I’m not saying go there as the Emperor, I’m saying go there as a villager.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes.” 

“The Emperor.” 

“Mhm?”

“A _villager?”_

“Try not to be so condescending to the majority, Your Majesty,” Junmyeon says smoothly. He pauses, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly to weaken the flame of anger burning inside him. “You can go as a citizen, if the non-existent difference in the term makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not being condescending,” Yixing frowns. “I’m being... disbelieving. Showing my honest reaction to yet another ridiculous proposition of yours.”

“It’s not ridiculous. And like _all_ my propositions, it makes sense!”

“It doesn’t,” Yixing looks him in the eyes. “Make sense. At all.” 

“Semantics,” Junmyeon waves his hand dismissively, “Regardless I’ll be going to festival—” 

“You can’t go if I don’t let you.”

“—And if you want to do what’s _right,_ you would come along.” Junmyeon continues blithely. “But, Your Majesty, if not experiencing life like the group of people you don’t understand and struggling to control throughout different aspects of the Kingdom is what you _fancy,_ then fine. Stay here holed up, and slaving away at the stack of papers that will never lessen no matter what you do.” 

Yixing hates how much sense Junmyeon’s words make. The message is Crystal clear: _first hand experience of your own kingdom_. It’s not like Yixing has anything better to do while he waits for his informants letters. Other than, as Junmyeon said, the faithful stack of papers on his desk that never seemed to go down.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“There’s no need to think.” Junmyeon says seriously. “You want to know your kingdom? _This_ is how. A real, true, festival experience. You said it yourself, remember Your Majesty? You need to be out there more. Mysterious image kept in mind, you need to experience it for yourself.” 

“You make a compelling argument.” 

“So that’s a yes?” Junmyeon’s eyes gleam hopefully. 

Yixing simply looks at him expectantly. 

“So that’s a yes, _Your Majesty?”_ Junmyeon implores, lips pursed. 

“That’s an, _I'll think about it.”_

“But—“ 

“I’ll be leaving now,” Yixing announces to get him to be quiet. Jongdae peels himself off the wall, already moving towards the Jade Palace door to prop it open for Yixing. 

“You’re just looking for an easy way out,” Junmyeon sniffs. “Have a _wonderful_ afternoon Your Majesty.” 

Yixing keeps all the words he wants to say bottled up inside him, letting Junmyeon watch him as he walks towards the door with his head high.

“And Your Majesty,” Junmyeon calls out, pausing, when Yixing looks at him over his shoulder. His eyes are narrowed, simmering with thoughts Yixing strangely wants to hear. “It would be best if you listened to my... _advice.”_

Yixing resists the urge to roll his eyes, jerking his head to signal to the guards to go back to their posts. One heavy thud of the door later, and Junmyeon is nowhere to be seen. Just how Yixing likes it. Yixing glances at Jongdae, only to see an amused smile on his guard’s face. 

“Shut your mouth,” Yixing frowns. “And start arranging a way for me to attend the festival should I choose to go.” 

As it turns out, Yixing ends up following Junmyeon’s advice. Reluctantly, but curious to see what Junmyeon was talking about. When they arrive it’s hard to not feel the excitement emanating off the people, who bustle to and fro yelling greetings while people try to sell their products. 

The town looks completely different. Stone paths filled with various kinds of people, all in masks and festive clothing. Lanterns hung off strings that went from building to building, illuminating the streets in the night. Vendors yelling, children running, the overwhelming smell of food and sweat and a crowd. It’s nothing Yixing would like to experience, but here he is. Unwilling. 

“You clearly don’t go around by yourself much,” Junmyeon smiles, too teasingly for Yixing’s liking. His eyes glittering through his mask. He got lucky, with an unrecognizable face he just needed something to cover the area around his eyes. His mask is blue. A similar shade to the emblem he was carrying. “It wouldn’t kill you to smile you know.” 

Yixing rolls his eyes, letting Junmyeon interpret it however he likes. The mask Yixing chose was sturdy, covering all of his face. It’s only downside (According to Junmyeon) was the frown painted on it. Accentuating the angry expression it was supposed to hold.

“How funny,” Yixing comments, and his tone indicates it’s anything but. 

“You can at least try to be more friendly,” Junmyeon loops his right arm through Yixing’s left. “I won’t bite, you know.” 

“Let go of my arm.” 

“Yes sir,” Junmyeon drops it instantly. 

“I don’t need to be friendly.” Yixing responds blandly, ignoring how the arm Junmyeon is touching tingles. “I don’t even trust you. You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met. Hence the hesitation.” 

“What do you think I’ll do? Disrupt the whole festival by running and screaming?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Yixing snorts.

“And then what? After the running and screaming?” Junmyeon waggles his eyebrows, looking too gleeful under the strung lights. “Take you to a corner, go through with my conspired plan to seize the throne through brute force?”

“You have quite the active imagination. Your stories rival Sehun’s.” 

“I try,” Junmyeon hums, as if he’s smug. Yixing has no idea why he _would_ be in the first place. “But Jongdae’s with us, so regardless it doesn’t matter.” 

Yixing stops, bending his neck down just the slightest so he can look Junmyeon in the eyes. 

“It was a joke,” Junmyeon says, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. “A bad, but true reference to how Jongdae wouldn’t hesitate to slice my head off if I ever seemed to be a threat, Your Majesty.” 

“...Right.” Yixing resumes walking, Junmyeon awkwardly shuffling beside him for a few seconds until he regains his balance. 

“You don’t believe me? Jongdae probably has no problem with answering.” Junmyeon cranes his neck to look at Jongdae, who was silently tailing them a few steps back. “Isn’t that right?” Junmyeon smiles, as if he’s offering Jongdae his favourite candy, and not making him admit to being a possible reason for Junmyeon’s death. 

Jongdae gives a single, curt nod in answer. 

“See?” 

“Clearly.” Of course Jongdae would do that, it’s his _job._ Really, Yixing didn’t get Junmyeon’s humour at all. “And to answer, _no_ I don’t travel by myself because the risk is too high.” Everytime he inhales he can smell Junmyeon. Citrus, sweet and tangy. He wants to devour it all. “You may be aware of the fact that I am, in fact, the _Emperor._ Given the events that normally happen when a ruler makes a public appearance, it makes sense.” 

“Don’t act cheeky,” Junmyeon frowns, tugging Yixing a little bit closer by the sleeve of his robes. Now Yixing can start to see the crowd. They had taken a few lesser known roads in order to maintain as much safety as they could. Jongdae is the only guard they need, and Yixing himself was just as skilled with the blade, but the caution was necessary. 

They’re a few steps from being enveloped by loud children, a road packed with kids and adults alike, screaming vendors lined the side advertising all sorts of handmade goods. As the stars twinkle above them, highlighted by the moon, Yixing is presented with the choice. Either stay by Junmyeon’s side, and go through a crowd bigger than anything he’s ever seen— or bail out. Head back to the safety of his palace. Forget that he had even tried to be a citizen in the first place.

“I can act however I like.” 

“Of course you can,” Junmyeon murmurs. 

And now it’s Yixing who pulls Junmyeon in the slightest, even though he doesn’t really want to. The crowds look very different when you’re on a stage, compared to now, where they run as freely as they want. Not as controlled or contained compared to when Yixing publicly visits.

“You’re being awfully casual for someone who doesn’t trust me,” The corners of Junmyeon’s pretty, pink mouth (Since when did Yixing think mouths, of all things, were pretty?) tilt upwards. A dangerous glint in his eyes as he eyes the crowd ahead of him. They’re only a few steps away, and Jongdae trails behind him. His eyes, those devious eyes of Junmyeon, are clearly daring Yixing. Fully aware of his desire to just stop and turn around. 

“Your Majesty,” Yixing reminds him. 

“Don’t we have to be undercover? We certainly don’t want to make your presence obvious, do we.” Junmyeon asks, smiling innocently. The bastard probably planned this out from the start. 

“You planned this,” Yixing says darkly, and he can already picture Jongdae laughing behind his back. He was a bastard too, Yixing decides grouchily. 

“It’s not like you can do much,” Junmyeon grins bigger, “It’s just the way it is.”

“Just for today then.”

“Wonderful,” Junmyeon breathes out, his right hand grabs Yixing’s, whether he realizes it or not, and he brings it over his head. Junmyeon’s hand is soft, devoid of the bruises and calluses of a fighter, unlike Yixing’s. 

The moment they reach the crowd is undescribable, it’s unlike anything Yixing has ever experienced. The heat of the crowd draws them in, people brushing past them and it’s impossible to not be touching at least five people at a time. Not to mention the way Junmyeon surges through the people, hand tight on Yixing’s. He pulls them through the crowd fast, ducking past walking vendors, darting past children until they’re stumbling onto the festival market. 

It’s almost too fast, a rush until they hit a space in the crowd where they can rest and begin properly walking. Yixing tries to take it all in, and in a way, Junmyeon is right. The experience is unlike anything else he’s been through. He doesn’t necessarily _like_ it— but it’s new. Almost refreshing. 

He lets go of Junmyeon’s hand, it’s too awkward now. They’re just walking beside each other in silence, Jongdae behind them as they look everywhere but each other. He spies the food vendors, the game booths. Children running around with streamers, pretending to roar like the dragons. It’s cute, Yixing decides. Maybe he should have brought Sehun— but the thought of Sehun in a place so crowded, so full of _enemies,_ doesn’t sit well with him at all.

“See anything you like?” Junmyeon asks, looking over at Yixing curiously. 

“The stands over there seem...attractive enough.” he hums back, hoping Junmyeon can hear him over the din of the crowd. 

“We’ll go walk over there then,” Junmyeon smiles, bright and sunny in the night. He looks happier, actually full of life now. “There’s so much to do! Games, food, nothing interests you?” 

“I thought I told you It’d be hard to motivate me to do anything.” They reach the stands, Yixing’s eyes roam over all the bright and colourful offerings. Nothing seems to interest him. 

“You didn’t,” Junmyeon looks up, admiring the intricate lanterns that sway from the night breeze. “But I like a good challenge.” 

“Everyone does.” 

“You do?” Junmyeon glances over at Yixing, and there’s no denying the mischievous look on his face. “You like a challenge? I thought you’d prefer everything handed over to you.” 

“That’s always nice,” Yixing admits. “But unrealistic. Everyone likes the occasional challenge.” 

“What if I were to propose a challenge now?” Junmyeon asks suddenly, his eyes stuck on what Yixing thinks is a bright orange paper cat.

“Like what?” Yixing indulges him. “A challenge to see who’ll eat the most? Who’ll win the most games? That sounds dreadful, but I suppose I’ll have to go along with it if I don’t want you to take me to a corner and seize the throne by force.”

“As entertaining as that sounds, no.” Junmyeon bites his lips, leaning in to whisper. “What if we lost him?” 

“Lost who?” 

Junmyeon glances back with his eyes discreetly. 

“Jongdae?” Yixing quirks his eyebrow up. “Impossible.” _Unsafe,_ his mind reminds him. _A fun challenge,_ his heart whispers. At least there’s no way Jongdae heard them, the crowd was much too loud. 

“I’m here to give you the full experience,” Junmyeon smiles, no, beams. Secretively and tempting. The festival mood must be really getting to him. “A true visit to the festival, by yourself.” 

“It wouldn’t be by myself if you stayed with me. Besides, Jongdae’s the best of the best,” Yixing murmurs back, glancing to where Jongdae is leaning against the wooden frame of a random building. 

“And _you_ hired him.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m better than him.” Yixing points out, pretending to examine random trinkets at the stall. 

“I’ve heard rumours about your fighting skills,” Junmyeon picks up a small trinket, holding it delicately in between his fingers. “You’re capable enough to evade him.” 

“A challenge?” Yixing muses,

“A challenge.” Junmyeon agrees, he holds the trinket up like he’s examining it.“Do you accept?” 

“Let’s say I do,” Yixing plucks the trinket from Junmyeon’s hand and sets it back. “How do you propose we do it?” 

Well,” Junmyeon pauses, his eyes scanning the area. “It’ll be easy enough to lose him in those crowds over there, won’t it?” Yixing looks ahead, and sure enough it’s packed. There seems to be some kind of street performance going on based on the cheers that erupt and random flames that leap towards the sky. “After that we can sneak down some back alley, find our way to the food market.” 

“That’s not very thought out.” 

“He’s a trained tracker, isn’t he?” Junmyeon looks over at Yixing, and it’s hard to tell what Yixing is thinking thanks to his mask. “His specialty would be to… put on the other’s person’s mask. See what they’re thinking and where’d they go according to that.” 

“He won’t be able to track someone who’s thought process he can’t get behind.” Yixing nods his head along to every word. 

“Considering we don’t have a properly thought out plan, and no thought process we should be able to lose him quite easily.” 

“This is less of a challenge for us, and more of a challenge for Jongdae.” 

“He’s the unwilling participant in our experiment.” 

“I suppose he is,” Yixing smiles wryly, but it’s not like Junmyeon can see it. “We have to be smart about this though.” 

“Pretend we’re looking at the stands, they go all along the wall until the crowd. And then we’ll slip in, unnoticed as planned.” 

“I thought there was no plan,” Yixing smiles ruefully, but it’s not like Junmyeon can see it anyways. 

“Well come on then,” Junmyeon tilts his head towards the stall, practically slipping towards one. “Fancy a puppet?” 

“No.” 

“How about a whistle?” Junmyeon dangles it in between his fingers. 

“No,” Yixing takes it and places it back down on the stand. “Why do you keep touching everything?” 

“I’m browsing,” Junmyeon takes Yixing along the wall, and they slowly approach the crowd. Yixing has never been a big fan of crowds, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the thrill buzzing under his skin. 

“We have to be fast,” Junmyeon mutters. 

“I’m always fast,” Yixing dismisses, “It’s you who’s the problem if anything.” 

“I didn’t say you were slow, and I didn’t say you’re a problem either,” Junmyeon huffs. “I’m just letting you know that in five seconds I’m going to grab your hand and we’re going to run.” 

“Why would we—“

Before he can even finish his sentence Junmyeon is grabbing his hand. His hand is way too warm, slightly sweat too. But before Yixing can even let himself focus on that he’s surrounded by people, and being dragged through a crowd. Bodies everywhere, the loud cheers everywhere. Something cracked under his foot and he can only hope it wasn’t a hand or something along those lines. 

They stumble out of the crowd, back onto a familiar stone path. Junmyeon stops, dropping Yixing’s hand to place it on his knees as he doubles over, laughing. 

“I would have stopped to see the show but you looked like you were going to pass out,” Junmyeon chuckles. 

“If I had you really would be screwed when Jongdae finds us.” 

_“If_ he finds us.” 

“He will.” 

“Regardless,” Junmyeon turns to look behind them, eyes bright and even brighter when Jongdae is nowhere to be seen. “Mission success,” he says, smiling. 

“...Yes.” Yixing manages to respond. The sun is nothing compared to how bright Junmyeon is now, it’s warmth is nothing compared to how Junmyeon’s smile itself makes Yixing’s heart constrict. How horrible. How sweet. How… strange, Yixing settles with. “Good job,” 

“Thank you,” Junmyeon’s smile stretches into something proud. “Now what?” 

“I thought you would have had that planned out.” 

“Well there’s so much to do… why don’t we check out the games?” 

“I don’t play games.” 

“You will now,” Junmyeon answers, grinning. “They’re right over there, come on!” 

Yixing doesn’t have a choice, not when he’s left to watch over Junmyeon who is after all, a prisoner he can’t let escape. He looks over at all the game booths, the bright colours that hurt his eyes, the prizes that dangle tauntingly, and he really wishes he was home. 

“Do you see anything interesting?” Yixing questions in mild disgust. Really, how sanitary were these places.

Junmyeon had stopped a while back, Yixing notices. He walks towards him, frowning. “What is it?” 

Junmyeon is staring at a booth, at one one of the prizes, more specifically. A big, ugly red thing that Yixing can only hope isn’t a dragon. He stares at it with wide eyes, like it’s the only thing he wants to look at.

“What is it?” Yixing asks again, feeling something he hopes isn’t worry. He has no business worrying over Junmyeon but what if it's something from his past? A token that’s bringing back unwanted memories—

“I want it.” Junmyeon says, his voice filled with longing.

“Want what?” Yixing asks, and then he looks at the plush. And then back to Junmyeon. _“That?”_

“Yes!” Junmyeon exclaims, whipping his head towards Yixing. “You don’t like it?” 

“It’s horrendous,” Yixing states.

“It is _not,”_ Junmyeon, much to Yixing’s amusement, sounds offended on behalf of the plush.

“Why would you even want it?” 

“It’s so...interesting, and… wait a minute,” Junmyeon squints. “Oh.” 

Yixing waits as patiently as he can.

“Oh great.” 

“What is it?” Yixing asks, starting to feel fed up. He stares at the plush, and it stares right back. 

“It kind of resembles you.” 

Silence. Or as much silence Yixing can provide while the festivity noise surrounds them.

“Take that back Kim Junmyeon,” Yixing utters slowly, “Take it back right now or the moment we get home I _will_ make sure that the order for your executions is given.” 

“I can’t take it back,” Junmyeon frowns, “I can't even unsee it. It’s the eyebrows. It has to be. Or maybe the eyes? They seem broody enough for you.” 

“Is that so?” YIxing asks, voice low. 

“It looks exactly like you. If Jongdae was here he’d probably agree.” 

“Do you still want it?” 

“No,” Junmyeon answers lightly, and he’s not looking Yixing in the eyes. As it should be. “Not anymore.” 

“Well too bad,” Yixing growls, “You wanted it so badly, I’ll get it for you.” 

“That’s not—” 

“Watch me get it,” Yixing cuts him off, marching towards the stand and forcing Junmyeon to follow. . “I’d like to try please,” he tells the vendor, who probably saw Junmyeon’s interest from the start.

It’s a bigger stand compared to the rest. Colourful targets dance behind the man on some sort of set rotation, all sorts of goodies hung from the little amount of ceiling space. It’s easy to guess what he has to do. 

The vendor smiles, clearly pleased by the attention. “That’ll be five silvers for three tries, sir.” 

Yixing reaches into his robe, pulling out the little pouch of coins he had prepared. Little, was one way to describe a sack that contained more than a poor man’s yearly salary. It was nothing to Yixing, like peanuts, compared to the wealth he had amassed. He places the coins onto the counter, “What do I do?” He asks, fueled by determination. 

The vendor hands him a cheaply constructed set of bow and arrows. “The closer to the center of the target means the bigger the prize.” 

Seems easy enough to Yixing, he’s a pro at all weapon-based activities. Of course the bow and arrow isn’t the quality he’s used to, it’s the kind he would’ve played with as a kid, rather than compete, but he’s not too picky. A skilled archer doesn’t rely on the weapon quality after all. 

“And for the big prize?” Yixing jerks his head towards the offending dragon plush, noticing the way Junmyeon looks at it, contemplating. 

“Just one arrow in the yellow center.” The vendor smiles cunningly as he points to the miniscule center. A trick shot. One which a normal civilian wouldn’t be able to make. 

One which an Emperor who had received training his entire life certainly could. 

“I see,” is all Yixing says in response, walking over to the clearing when he can shoot the targets. He sets the arrows down on the wooden plank that juts out just the slightest. Picking one up he notches the arrow into the bow carefully. Something’s not right, he can tell instantly. The arrow is too heavy compared to the bow, and it won’t go very far. But maybe he’ll make it work.

He takes his aim carefully, trying to match up to the little yellow circle as best as he can and— he misses. Not by much, the arrow embedded at the edge of the red circle that surrounds the yellow. but enough to prove that he was right about the arrow being too heavy. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, doesn’t even bother to look at Junmyeon because if he sees him laughing, he’ll lose focus. 

The second arrow is much lighter, too different to the first. He’ll overshoot it no matter how much he plans the shot. The game isn’t fair, Yixing thinks, and it’s not surprising. This time when he lets go it ends up higher, just missing the red section. 

The third arrow, his last try. If he misses this he’ll never hear the end of this. To let his ego get bruised over something as small as this? Never. He notches the arrow, in, closing one eye so he can aim his shot to the best of his ability. He sees the yellow circle, like the sun, and it’s the only thing he focuses on. Tuning out the noise, the smug smile on the vendor’s face, he adjusts it accordingly and—

With a heavy thud the area hits the target, snack in the middle. Bullseye.

The look on the vendor's face doesn’t make it worth it, his eyes rounding in shock, the smile falling right off his face. But the gasp Junmyeon lets out is full of pure shock. When he turns to look at Yixing the surprise is evident in his eyes. 

“Unbelievable,” the vendor mutters. 

“Unbelievable,” Junmyeon murmurs, looking at Yixing in a mix of shock and wonder. 

“I’ll take my prize now,” Yixing says calmly, no, smugly. Holding his hands out and watching as the vendor dismantles the big dragon plush from where it’s hanging. “You have a good day now,” he says with a smile that means nothing because it’s not like the vendor can see it anyways. 

Junmyeon follows him away from the booth, the shock on his face wearing out. 

“You’re quite skilled,” Junmyeon comments after a few moments of silence. “I’m impressed.” 

“What did you expect from me? To fail?” Yixing questions stopping and holding out the big plush towards Junmyeon.

Junmyeon takes it from his hands, examining the dragon’s face before tucking it as much as he can under his arm. “I don’t know what I expected. For you to actually win was not on the list.”

“Well as you wished for, you got your marvellous plush. 

“Marvelous is it?” Junmyeon quirks his eyebrow up. “I recall just a few minutes ago you said it was horrendous.” 

“After you commented on it’s...uncanny resemblance which I do not see, I started to see it in a better light.”

“A flattering light,” Junmyeon snorts, adjusting his mask with his free hand. 

“You flatter me,” Yixing says, but he’s satisfied. “Where to now, Junmyeon? Any other prize catch your eyes?” 

“Anywhere you want to go,” Junmyeon smiles, holding the plush in his arms. The yellow eyes stare at Yixing, almost as if they’re accusing him. He hates it, and will probably request that the hideous thing be burned as soon as he’s back. 

“Well we did a game,” Yixing twists his mouth, “We walked through unbearable crowds, I don’t know what else there is to do.” 

“How about a break?” Junmyeon suggests, lifting his hand up to point at a nearby hill. “We can watch the festival from up there.” 

“...If that’s what you would like,” Yixing says, because he doesn’t really care, and a break from the festival is the best idea he’s heard in a while. They make their way up slowly, taking their time with the uphill climb until they reach the top of the grassy hill. Junmyeon plops down immediately, sighing when his back hits the cool grass. 

“It feels so good to rest my legs,” he says, sounding relieved. 

“You need to become more athletic then.” Yixing says, sitting down in a more put-together manner. 

“Of course you would say that,” Junmyeon murmurs, looking down at the festival. They’ve got a lovely view from where they’re seated. He slips his mask off and Yixing follows suit, happy that he can breathe fully again. The air has never felt better. 

“Why did you want to come here so bad?” Yixing asks, looking down at the streets. 

“Consider it...an outing. A good break for the both of us.” 

“Compared to me, I don’t quite know what you did which would have required a break this grand.” 

“Well, Your Majesty,” Yixing is surprised Junmyeon is even bothering to respect him. “I am being held prisoner in an unfamiliar land. Not to mention I’m only here due to circumstances that…” Junmyeon sighs, “There’s no point.” 

Yixing looks at him curiously, “Go on.”

“It is what it is,” Junmyeon says, looking nervous for once. “You know the circumstances, and it’s not like I can force you to do anything. I’m surprised you even came here at all, especially since I suggested it. I thought you’d be furious.”

“I was furious. _Am_ furious,” Yixing adds just for jest. “But I find your perspective interesting enough to let it slide.” 

“Interesting isn’t good enough if you don’t believe me.” 

“Junmyeon,” Yixing glances over at Junmyeon, and now he has to watch his facial expression carefully because Junmyeon can see it. “I assure you I’m not ignoring your concerns.” Concerns were not the way to put it. It was more grave than that. “These things take time. You understand that your story is hard to believe, and on top of that you had no proof either.”

Junmyeon glances up, looking at the stars in admiration. His expression is serious though. “ I spent the last few months at the clan fearing for my life. I didn’t have the luxury of time, I had to act fast and do what I could before they inevitably got me.” His mouth twists with his words, into something sadder. “I can’t just sit around and watch as you do nothing. Especially because I know the people are suffering. The North, my _home,_ is suffering— and it’s directly related to me. My family.”

“I’m waiting on the word from my intelligence people,” Yixing admits, without much thought. Seeing Junmyeon’s face, so hopeless amongst the stars, stirs something inside him. Pity, maybe. “I’m prepared for what to do if they confirm the situation.” 

“You are?” Junmyeon blinks, looking at Yixing. His eyes, much to Yixing’s surprise, are glassy. Like he’s trying not to cry. “This whole time I...I thought you were dismissing me.” 

“You did your job quite well,” Yixing shrugs like it’s nothing. “You planted a seed of doubt in my mind, and explained it so thoroughly I couldn’t help but start to believe it. No matter how much I didn’t want it to be true, like you said, it is what it is. I’ll deal with it accordingly.” 

“Is it hard?” Junmyeon asks, still looking at him. Yixing wants him to look away, to at least let the tears out. Another part of him wants to wipe them away. “Of course I know it’s hard but how does it feel? They’re a founding clan...surely it was hard.” 

“Why did you think I was so disbelieving towards you?” Yixing joins him, tilting his head up. The stars twinkle happily in the sky, how ironic. And unifitting. Yixing can control many things, but nature isn’t one of them after all. “Of course it was hard. They helped build me up, and apparently what I did in return wasn’t adequate enough for them to feel loyal.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Junmyeon frowns. “Greed ruins the mind of many.” 

“Why didn’t you side with your parents?” Yixing questions back suddenly, it’s the question that’s been plaguing his mind this whole time. “Surely it would have been easy for you to side with them. You would have received a part of whatever they offered too.” 

“It goes against everything I stand for,” Junmyeon shakes his head. “Everything we stand for. We’re supposed to be a peaceful clan. And somewhere along the path we grew greedy, tired of peace and harmony. Thirsty for trivial things.” 

“What do you think would’ve happened had we not found you?”

“You would have found out eventually. Greed always leads to a slow death. You would have received the news when the North was truly rotting from the corruption.” Junmyeon answers gravely. “I see corruption as just another label for a society who rots from the inside out.” 

“And you want me to rid them of corruption,” Yixing pauses, “With this proof.”

“I see no difference in getting rid of the corruption, or getting rid of them,” Junmyeon says, and it’s different to his normal playful tone. He sounds serious, all too serious. “With the proof, you could do whatever you want. Execute the nobles, purge all the subsections. Dismantle them all together. It’s your choice, really.”

“That’s your own clan,” Yixing reminds him, out of curiosity for his views more than anything. Junmyeon’s views have changed in a decidedly short time. From hope to anger, in a matter of weeks. Or maybe, he had always been angry, the burning in his eyes had shown that. In a way that showed he had been hopeful, that he had tried to deal with it in the private, Kim Clan fashion. Now he was using his last result.

“Not anymore,” Junmyeon says, his voice tight with sorrow. “Not since they threw me to the dogs.” 

“You don’t seem to miss them.” 

“I do,” Junmyeon retorts immediately. “I _do_ miss them. I don’t miss what they’ve become. The empty shell of the people they used to be. I miss some people, and they probably… they probably think I’m dead.” 

“You’re going to have to face them eventually,” Yixing reminds him, “Regardless of whether justice is brought by my hand, or by yours.” 

“I won’t face them.” Junmyeon is trying too hard to sound confident, the tears in his eyes dissuade any hope of that. 

“You will,” Yixing responds lightly, “If my people inform me in a way that indicates we have to go there.”

“They disowned me. Betrayed me, if I can even consider it that.” Junmyeon’s voice wavers. 

“You can consider it whatever you like,” Yixing responds mildly, “But when the time comes you’ll have to face them. _Cross_ them. Or help me cross them.” 

“I have allies, they would help in an instant.” 

“This is all hypothetical,” Yixing brushes it off, “If I choose to believe you, what fate would you like me to hand to the clan?” 

“That depends on how I feel, if I’m angry enough I’d request you destroy them all.” 

“Even your allies?” 

“Of course not.” 

“And if you feel hopeful? What then?” 

“I’d ask you to help me rebuild them,” Junmyeon murmurs, his hands balled into fists. “Help them return to what they used to be.” 

“And what fate would you like me to hand to your family?”

“...Do you know what it’s like to have your own family hate you?” Junmyeon asks suddenly, fingers trembling. 

_Yes,_ Yixing silently answers. _And I know what it’s like to hate them in return._

“I used to be… I used to be their world. Until I was able to gather enough sense for myself,” Junmyeon continues on bitterly, and there’s a glimmer of tears in his eyes. “It’s funny how everything can change in the blink of an eye.” 

“Were you close to them?” Yixing asks, keeping his face devoid of emotion. 

“Very,” Junmyeon murmurs, sounding distant. He stares down at the festival, at the children running around happily, the vendors trying to sell their food. “Until I learnt of the secrets. Until they…” Junmyeon inhales sharply, tears evident in his eyes. He stares at the river, unblinking, and his words are clear. _Until they tried to have me killed. Until they sent me effortlessly to the enemy._

“When did you realize?” Yixing asks, he wants to push Junmyeon while he can. Continues to want to nudge him towards the inevitable breaking point no matter how bad it is.

“Realize what?” Junmyeon sounds pained. 

“That you were no longer family in their eyes. That they were no longer family in _your_ eyes.” 

“I wished I realized slowly,” Junmyeon is quiet, unbearably so. “But it was more of a revelation.” he says, eyes downcast. 

“What caused it?” 

“They made me beg for my life. And described what they’d do to me if I didn’t abide by their Rules,” Junmyeon chokes out, the tears finally falling. 

Yixing feels this distinct burning sensation, an ugly flame of anger he can’t stamp out. It’s fed by Junmyeon’s audible pain, grows just from one look at Junmyeons tear stained face. 

Yixing makes no move to comfort Junmyeon, continuing to stare as the sudden tears fall down Junmyeon’s face. Junmyeon doesn’t move to wipe them away, a blank look on his face. “How about you?” Junmyeon murmurs, desperate to change the subject. “Were you ever close to yours?” 

“No,” Yixing answers truthfully. “Too much competition.” 

“Over the throne?” Junmyeon’s voice is thick from the tears. His face pale even with the warm glow of the lanterns.

“I wasn’t meant to be emperor,” Yixing murmurs, and it comes out before he can stop himself. 

“Why are you… you shouldn’t be telling me this.” Junmyeon whispers, still not looking Yixing in the eyes. He’s right, and Yixing like always, ignores it. 

“There simply isn’t a reason why. But if it bothers you so much then, think of it this way: you told me something personal, so I’m telling you something in return.” The words sound ridiculous when Yixing says them and he gets it. He’s under no obligation to tell Junmyeon anything about himself, but it only feels right. An eye for and eye, and in this case, a secret for a secret. Even if Yixing’s is the obvious, but buried truth. “I wasn’t supposed to be emperor.” 

Now Junmyeon looks up, bringing his hand up to wipe the few lone tears. It’s his silent way of telling Yixing to go on. 

“I was the middle of five. The third prince,” Yixing starts to explain, and he knows this story isn’t one that’s frantically covered up. It’s shrouded in rumours that twisted that real story into something unrecognizable, but it works for Yixing. “The product of a concubine and an Emperor who found it impossible to stay monogamous.” 

“Were there any after you?” Junmyeon asks, “Siblings, I mean.” 

“Three,” Yixing replies. “One died as a child, one I dealt with, and you know the other.” 

“Sehun,” Junmyeon murmurs, contemplative. “The true youngest.” 

Yixing nods in answer. “Two before me and two after,” 

“And now only you two remain.” There’s a silent message in his words, a tentative question Junmyeon’s scared might cross a line. _Just what exactly did you do to them?_

“The chances of me acquiring the throne were slim, but I wanted it. More than anything,” He doesn’t know why he’s telling Junmyeon this. Maybe because his tears are moving. Yixing desired it. Dreamt of sitting on the throne, spent his hours devising strategies and plans. “And I was willing to do whatever it took.” 

“Tell me about them,” The request takes Yixing aback. Junmyeon wasn’t curious about how Yixing seized the throne, his tales of power struggle and days spent wondering if he’d be killed. 

“I won’t,” Yixing answers easily. “You don’t need to concern yourself with stories from the past.”

“The first two, what happened to them?”

“What do you think happened to them?” Yixing questions coolly, looking over at Junmyeon. 

“No,” Junmyeon gasps quietly, eyes rounded. The truth is settling in now, the very obvious truth. “You… you were the cause of their deaths. Your own siblings,” Junmyeon murmurs, “I’m torn between being horrified and impressed.” 

“Do you have any siblings, Junmyeon?” 

“No.” 

“Then you simply wouldn’t get it.” 

“I’m sure even then I wouldn’t get it. Couldn’t you could have tried to get along with them?” 

“They hated me from the start, I didn’t belong to the empress after all. I was supposed to be a nobody.” 

“You let Sehun stay alive,” Junmyeon says suddenly, eyebrows furrowed. 

Yixing taps his fingers against his mask. Sehun, the last remnant of the man Yixing hated so much. Sehun, who was so little when Yixing had murdered his siblings in cold blood, decided to let him live. Sehun, sweet and smart Sehun who called Yixing ‘big brother’ even after learning what he did. 

“Call it a moment of weakness.” 

“A moment of _humanity,”_ Junmyeon corrects. 

“Call it what you want, I’ll call it as it is.” 

There’s this little pleased twinkle in Junmyeon’s eyes, no more tears. “He would have loved the festival.” 

“He would have,” Yixing pauses, looking down at the people. “We played a game, we walked through crowds, and this. What’s left.” 

Junmyeon glances at Yixing, and there’s a strangely warm look in his eyes. Appreciative. “The best part of festivals, of course.” 

“And that is?” 

Junmyeon grins, “The food.”

It’s less crowded as the night dwindles on, but the streets are still filled with happy townspeople. They walk through the streets, a little closer than before. Yixing takes in all the food stalls, everything is greasy and friend and too unhealthy compared to what he eats. But he craves it, something sweet, a rare day where he can let himself ignore his diet. He readjusts his mask, happy to have his shield back.

“Do you want the candied apples?” Junmyeon asks, noticing where Yixing is looking.

“It’s too unhealthy.” 

“But do you _want_ it?” 

Yixing answers him with silence, and a single, curt nod. 

“Then we’ll get it, come on,” He grabs Yixing’s hand and pulls him towards the stand. Yixing stares down at their intertwined hands, and he can’t help but be aware of how much hand holding they’ve been doing lately. “Hold this,” He dumps the plush in Yixing’s arms, turning to the vendor.

“How much for three?” 

“Three for twenty-five,” the vendor smiles, Junmyeon looks at the apples dubiously. Yixing reaches towards his pouch, when Junmyeon lightly taps his hand, stopping him. 

“That’s too expensive,” Junmyeon says, looking the vendor in the eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Yixing mutters, confused. Expensive? Twenty-five silvers? That was nothing. Surely Junmyeon knew that was nothing as well, he was the son of a noble after all. 

“Three for ten,” Junmyeon says, his eyes twinkling through the mask. 

“They’re good quality apples sir, ten is too low.” The vendor pauses, “Twenty for three.”

“There’s hardly any difference between twenty-five and twenty,” Junmyeon says, looking thoughtful. “Fifteen, final offer.” 

“Seventeen,” The vendor counters.

Junmyeon looks over at Yixing, who looks at him back, completely clueless. 

“Works for us,” Junmyeon shrugs, turning to Yixing with a smile. “Pay up, _please.”_

Yixing does as told, although confused he is paying less now anyways. Not that it matters to him. Junmyeon gleefully hands him one, and holds the other two. 

“What was the point of that?” 

“Haggling the price down. It’s key for these kinds of things.” 

“Is it now?” Yixing looks down at the apple, the syrup coating it looks more appetizing now that it’s in his hand. “Why three?” 

“Well in case—” 

A hand places itself on Junmyeons shoulder, before Yixing can react (he’s thinking, either roundhouse kicking right beside Junmyeon’s head, or shoving the sticky sweet apple into the offender’s face), Jongdae’s head pops up, _“There you two are.”_ He utters, eyes blazing. 

Junmyeon, understandably shrieks at the sight of the guard. He whirls around, eyes wide, “Speak of the devil!”

“Jongdae. How nice of you to join us.” Yixing says conversationally, adjusting his mask so his mouth can freely chew on the unhealthy snack. “We just finished purchasing the apples. It’s almost as if you planned this. You’re lucky Junmyeon got three instead of two.” 

“You two—“

“Uh-uh,” Junmyeon smiles, holding an apple out to Jongdae. “Don’t want to reveal us, do you?” He smiles, wide and sweet, pointed and armed. 

Jongdae glares at them forcefully, pinching the stick which holds the apple uptight from Junmyeons grasp. 

“How did you manage to find us anyways?” Yixing murmurs, frowning. “I was sure we would have had twenty more minutes, at least.”

“You two were careless,” Jongdae mumbles through a mouthful of apples. 

“Impossible, all our tracks were covered by…” Yixing gestures around to the crowd, the various sights and smells the crowded festival carried. Not to mention how they had floundered form booth to booth, debating and talking. “This.” 

“I didn’t use the normal viewpoint.” Jongdae answers cryptically. 

“The rooftops,” Junmyeon marvels instantly, looking up at the slanted roofs from all the houses the stands cover. “You’re a genius. Wasting away at this one’s side,” he gives a pointed glare to Yixing. 

“I wouldn’t call it wasting,” Yixing retorts, taking a bite of his apple. Sweet and crunchy, definitely messy too.

“He should be right beside you,brainstorming with your generals. Aside from tracking us he clearly has the skill,” Junmyeon fumes, taking a rough bite from the apple. There’s a small pause as he crunches on it. “To think fast to obtain his goals.”

“He can brainstorm easily at my side, right Jongdae?” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

“Don’t call me that here—“

“It’s fine,” Junmyeon waves his hand dismissively. “No one’s going to pay attention.” 

Yixing frowns. “Attention was the exact reasoning you gave to not call me that.” 

“There’s more than one explanation. Maybe Jongdae lost a bet, and has to call you that. Or maybe he works for you but instead of Master you insist on Majesty.” 

“That seems awfully accurate,” Jongdae mumbles, munching on his apple. He doesn’t say Your Majesty at the end though.

“I’ll have you fired,” Yixing deadpans, all bark no bite. “How long were you tracking us?” 

“Long enough,” Jongdae answers evasively. 

Something in Yixing seizes, his heart, he thinks. Did Jongdae witness their embarrassing exchange about family? The way Junmyeon couldn’t hold his tears back? Yixing looks at Jongdae, trying to figure out. He can’t read his face at all, which means Jongdae did. Great. Yixing will just refuse to acknowledge their little heart to heart— even if it’s replaying in his head from the moment they left.

“Jongdae.” 

Jongdae looks towards Junmyeon, and Junmyeon’s eyebrows slowly slide upwards. 

“Oh,” Junmyeon says, pursing his lips. He’s realized it too.“You witnessed the game didn’t you.” Or maybe he didn’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jongdae says, but it’s directed towards Yixing.

“So...yes.” 

Jongdae looks pointedly at the dragon plush in Yixing’s arms. “Whatever is that? Your Majesty.” His voice is montoned. “It looks quite fun.” 

“Doesn’t it?” Junmyeon plays along, “Tell me Jongdae, does it look familiar to you?” 

“Be careful with your answer, it may cost you your life.” 

“I think it would be best if I head back now,” is all Jongdae says. “We should've received word from the North long after the night fell.” 

“It still is long after,” Junmyeon murmurs, twirling the apple stick in his hand. “I guess my execution will have to wait until morning.” 

“We’ll see,” Yixing says, feeling the dread in his stomach intensify. Word from the North now, meant that Junmyeon was correct. It cemented that the Kim Clan had indeed betrayed Yixing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	4. Wish

The letter, much to Yixing’s dismay, confirms most of what Junmyeon has said. The Kim Clan is in such a high state of disarray that it really would’ve been only a matter of time for the news to reach Yixing’s ears. Junmyeon’s warning (his incessant badgering more like) had given then a few months notice, more than enough time for Yixing to arrange a trip to North and establish his rule once and for all. The time where the North, the Kim Clan, and all their subsections hide away from the rest of the Empire, trying to mask their corruption and greed, would be over soon. 

Immediately after receiving word of their wrong-doings, Yixing got to work. He needed a plan, a simple one, and it revolved around Junmyeon. He would need to travel with him and Jongdae up to the North because he was the only one who could get the proof, and Yixing wasn’t going to take any chances by leaving him behind. 

They had left soon after, a carriage in tow and Jongdae at the reins while Junmyeon and Yixing stayed inside, discussing every detail of their carefully thought out plan. Yixing’s cavalry were on their way too, taking more hidden routes in order to not raise suspicions. 

After days of travelling they reach a modest looking house at nightfall.It must be quite the scene. The three of them, hoods covering their faces along with the darkness of the night. Junmyeon had insisted they stop here, a close friend lived here, he had said. Yixing would have preferred to stay at their designated safe house, but that was for a later time. He can still vividly picture Junmyeon’s face when he had murmured that most of his friend’s thought he was dead. Of course they had made sure this one in particular was still alive, and his spies had checked out that he was on the same side. But he can easily reason his change of heart because the location of Junmyeon’s friend’s house was perfect. Located in the Kim-Baek territory, which bordered the main Kim-Clan’s land, where Junmyeon’s study was.

Junmyeon takes hold of the golden circular door knocker, thudding it quietly nine times. _(A code,_ Junmyeon had said as they were passing through the trees. _No one would ever knock nine times, maybe five. Or ten, but nine?)._

“What if he doesn’t answer?” Yixing questions, knowing full well Jongdae would be prepared to take them to their safe house. 

“He will,” Junmyeon replies confidently. It’s amazing to see how his trust in people, even though he was betrayed by his own, hasn’t faltered this whole time. “If anything he’s just—” 

The door creaks open, and there’s a man leaning against the doorway looking as though he hasn’t slept in months. Sweeping a hand through his brown hair he looks at them through outlined half-lidded eyes until he’s processed who’s at the door.

It’s awkward, for Yixing, but there’s something about the look on Junmyeon’s face. As if he’s caught something precious in his hands, and refuses to let it go. Like a firefly, glowing in his palms. He’s holding his breath, and the stranger merely stares at him, his mouth agape. 

“Jun?” It’s quiet, almost inaudible over the din of the cicadas that croak through the night. There’s a gasp, and a sudden flurry of movement as Junmyeon is pulled into a tight hug. Even from here Yixing can see that these two are close and precious to each other. 

“Baekhyun!” Junmyeon exclaims quietly, tinkling laughter falling from his mouth. He’s trying hard to constrain his joy but it shines through his voice, through his actions. He returns Baekhyun’s hug just as tightly. They pull away from the hug, fingers intertwined, and Yixing wants to pull Junmyeon back even further. 

“Where have you been?” Baekhyun demands, squeezing Junmyeon’s fingers tightly. He still looks overjoyed and shocked to see him, but his tone rings with anger. “The last time we had heard from you—” 

“It’s a long story,” Junmyeon cuts in, “One that requires patience.” 

“There’s been talk,” Baekhyun squeezes Junmyeon’s fingers tightly and Yixing’s eyes track the movement. “Many thought you were dead.” 

“I was as good as dead,” Junmyeon murmurs, detangling their fingers. “But there was an interesting turn of events.” 

“I can see that,” Baekhyun replies, and now his eyes are boring into Yixing and Jongdae. “You brought company.” 

“The reasons why I’m alive,” Junmyeon says, glancing back at Yixing carefully. There are unsaid words here. _And the reason why I could’ve been dead._

“That’s good enough for me,” Baekhyun says with a shrug, he must really trust Junmyeon to let two strangers into his house. “Come inside, I’m sure you have plenty to catch me up on.” 

As they go into Baekhyun’s house (much bigger than he had expected, Baekhyun, like Junmyeon, is probably someone with higher status. He had just decided to orchestrate from behind the scenes, the mastermind behind the operations to reveal the corrupt members of the Kim Clan). Baekhyun’s hand rests on Junmyeon’s shoulder, and then dips to trail down his spine before it rests at the base of Junmyeon’s back. A strangely mesmerizing gesture. It tells Yixing: _Careful, this one means something to me._ The look Baekhyun gives Yixing over his shoulder is quick and burning. Intense and filled with fire. Yixing can already see how they’re friends. _Be cautious,_ it screams, _this is something you’ll never understand._

Love. Being dear to someone. All things Yixing will never understand. He leads them through his house into a nicer seating area. Wooden panels and gold decals hung on the walls. A few plants slowly beginning to cover the window panes. Red plush chairs on opposite sides of the room and an oval-shaped wooden table in the center. It’s nicely furnished.

Baekhyun rotates Junmyeon, practically forcing him to sit down. “I’ll have some warm tea prepared but before then,” He gestures at Yixing and Jongdae to sit down on the chairs opposite to where Junmyeon is seated. “You should introduce me to your… _friends.”_

“He’s—” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Baekhyun cuts in, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“This is his Majesty, Emperor Zhang Yixing,” Junmyeon is looking at Yixing now, silently observing Yixing’s every move. Not a dare, but more like a question. “And beside him is his guard Kim Jongdae.” 

Baekhyun blinks, his face slipping into something more shocked. It takes him a few seconds to gather himself but he dips into a graceful bow, “Apologies, Your Majesty.” 

For what he is apologising for, Yixing doesn’t know. He looks at Junmyeon steadily, trying to assess what he’s planning. 

“He wants to help,” Junmyeon says, looking back to Baekhyun. 

The shock transitions into something darker, more serious. Dubious, maybe. “How do you know?” 

“I do.” Yixing speaks up, making sure Baekhyun’s eyes and his are locked. He wants to make sure his place is known from the start. He wants to help but he has to lead, he doesn’t trust anyone else to take the reins of a heist so big from him.

“Surely you can’t trust that,” Baekhyun turns to Junmyeon, his eyes sharp. Similar to how disbelieving Yixing was of Junmyeon at first. “He could be mani—” 

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon cuts in softly, and there’s some sort of silent exchange going on between them, one that Baekhyun is losing. “He’s the reason I’m breathing today, and has yet to kill me, so yes trust him— with this.” 

“Has _yet_ to—” Baekhyung cuts himself off, huffing in frustration and it’s only out of respect for Junmyeon and wanting the process to go smoothly that Yixing doesn’t offer to kill him as well. He sits down beside Junmyeon, looking at Yixing and Jongdae carefully. “Explain. _Now.”_

And so Junmyeon does. He goes into unnecessary details about him teaching the youngest prince and how he had redecorated the Jade Palace. Baekhyun didn’t know Junmyeon was handed over to the enemy prison’s. Apparently he had thought Junmyeon was executed by the Kim Clan themselves. Discrepancies which prove that the Kim Clan is slowly falling apart. After the long and dwindling history which would bore Yixing had he not been directly involved the tea is served, burning and hot, and on it’s platter is a single pipe. Baekhyun reaches for it, instantly lighting it up. 

Baekhyun inhales slowly, the smoke from his pipe escaping from the corners of his mouth. “Up until a few hours ago, I thought you were dead Junmyeon.” Now he fixes a sharp gaze on Yixing, one that makes him want to feel scared even though he’s the most powerful person in the room. “And as thrilled as I am to see you,” Really. Yixing should just kill him. “I’m not sure about your partners.” 

“You can trust him,” Junmyeon responds immediately, and something in Yixing lights up. Warm, and sweet.

Now Baekhyun is looking at Junmyeon with the same sharp gaze, but it’s warmer somehow. More trustworthy, it makes Yixing wonder how many other people who care about Junmyeon are out there. And many of them mourn his death even though he’s alive?

“You’ve always been too trusting,” Baekhyun shakes his head, waving the smoke along with it. “Well then, go on. Tell me what you have planned. You do have a plan, right?” 

“Of course,” Junmyeon leans back into the sofa, his fingers curled around the tea cup. “It’s a bit complicated.” 

“Try me.” 

“I hid a dossier of the proof in my study.” 

“Your study,” Baekhyun repeats, monotone. “The same study they had locked away out of respect for you?” There’s something about the way Baekhyun says respect that indicates it wasn’t out of respect at all. He’s voice drips with mocking intent, not towards Junmyeon, but towards the Kim Clan leaders he clearly hates. 

“So the plan is to go get it.” 

Junmyeon, for being such an eloquent speaker most of the time, has proceeded to give the worst explanation Yixing has ever heard in his entire life. 

Baekhyun takes a long and slow drag of his pipe, and Yixing actually wants to join him. “Anything else you’d like to add? Like, the actual _details?”_

“You have the key to my study,” Junmyeon says, and he had never mentioned that to them. Maybe he should have. “So I’m going to need that. And yes I do have details.” 

“Well instead of dragging it out tell me before I lose my patience.” 

“His Majesty and I will sneak into the library where my study is,” That library was a main branch in the city, as it turns out Junmyeon was able to get a nice job thanks to his hardwork and his parents' money. That was a rather bad turn, but luckily the library was visited so often that chaotic mishaps were more frequent. “I’ve already thought of a disguise plan.” 

“And that is?” 

“The sick veil, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon says as if it explains everything. It probably explains everything to Baekhyun but at first it sounded ridiculous to Yixing. The sick-veil, as Junmyeon called it, was a common occurrence in the Kim Clan. When someone had obtained a sickness, but they needed to go out, the veil would cover their face (privacy, like always, motivated everything the Kim Clan created) so they could go about their day without being bothered or seen. It seemed foolish to Yixing but it would cover Junmyeon’s face completely, hanging over it like a light curtain. “His Majesty won’t need a disguise because he doesn’t visit here.” 

“Only sends his delegates,” Baekhyun comments, disgruntled. “We’ll add some decorative makeup just in case.” 

“Perfect. So we’ll visit the library, and around ten minutes later Jongdae will provide the distraction.” 

“And that is?” Baekhyun is on top of the ball. 

“A bookshelf falling. Common occurrence enough, and we’ll be alerted by the noise.” 

“What about getting out?” Baekhyun asks sharply.

“Jongdae will need to get treated for his wounds, the bookshelf needs to be propped back up and all books need to be assessed for damage and put back on in _order._ We’ll have plenty of time to get out.” 

“After that?” 

“I know where the dossier is and and once I obtain it it’ll be the property of his Majesty.” 

“Why would it be his?” Baekhyun frowns, “It’s your dossier, you can easily stand by his side and deal with the problems.” Ah, so that’s how it is. Baekhyun, who had grown up in the Kim-Baek clan, also enjoyed his privacy. His hostility stems from how he’s unhappy that Yixing had to be involved in the first place.

“For reasons I will hand it over to him,” Junmyeon says, clearly wanting to avoid telling Baekhyun that he had sworn himself to the Empire, and personally to Yixing. 

“It’s only right,” Yixing speaks up, admittedly cold. “That this problem be dealt with through the one person who can end it with a single order.” 

“Right,” Baekhyun locks his jaw, “Your Majesty, but what will you do once the proof is in your hands?” 

“That’s ultimately up to me, so there’s no need for you to worry about it.” It’s out of character for Yixing, but he smiles. Small and threatening and it’s in no way misinterpreted by Baekhyun. 

“When do you plan on carrying this out?” 

“As soon as possible.” 

“So tomorrow,” Baekhyun says, puffing away. “You’ll stay here for the night, it only makes sense considering how your study is not too close but not dreadfully far either. Everyone thinks you're dead anyways, and no one but my maids and I know you’ve arrived.” 

“Can we trust them?” Yixing asks, ignoring how Junmyeon is trying to get him to stop. “Your Maids.” 

“Can we trust you?” Baekhyun questions back, his eyebrow raised. “No matter that, I’ll provide whatever you need— so long as you’re careful.” Baekhyun looks at Junmyeon pointedly. “I don’t need your death on my hands, again.” 

“Of course,” Junmyeon replies quietly. “We’ve been travelling non-stop so let’s call it a night. Tomorrow is a big day for us after all.” 

Baekhyun leads them to different rooms to stay for the night. He takes Junmyeon first, to a room which is already practically his, and then he leads Yixing to his. Jongdae, the ever faithful guard, wanted to stay up in front of Yixing’s door but Baekhyun insisted he get some sleep. (His eyes, sharp under the cloud of smoke that lingered, made it clear that if either of them weren’t in the right mindset tomorrow, he would take matters into his own hands).

The room is nice, just as well decorated as the rest of his house. All red-themed and dark wood panels, it seems luxurious almost. Makes Yixing feel bitter for Junmyeon that while he was rotting away in a prison, Baekhyun was continuing a lavish lifestyle because he wasn’t on the frontlines. 

Regardless that won’t affect whether Yixing will sleep well or not. 

“Is it to your liking?” Baekhyun asks, pipe balancing between his slender fingers. 

“Very much so, thank you.” Yixing says as courtesy rather than a genuine thanks. 

“No need to thank me,” Baekhyun shrugs, inhaling from his pipe slowly. He waits a moment before exhaling, smoke seeping out of his mouth. “Let me know if you need anything at all.” Baekhyun is strangely lax for someone who’s letting strangers stay in his own property. 

There’s a question lingering on Yixing’s mind, and if he doesn’t voice it he feels like he’ll burst. He keeps thinking of how Baekhyun had led Junmyeon into the house, a hand on his back. The way he demanded to know everything out of concern. His sharp eyes threaten Yixing without him needing to say a word. It’s clear that they care very much for each other, in a way Yixing doubts he’ll understand. Friends, that’s what Junmyeon had said. He wanted to at least visit his dear friend because he knew Baekhyun would be internally beating himself up for Junmyeon’s apparent arrest. 

“Good night,” Yixing nods, the question lodged in his throat.

“Good night,” Baekhyun wishes him, eyes unreadable. “May your dreams be blessed.” He begins to turn around and leave. 

“Wait,” Yixing says, and his voice drops into his Emperor's voice for a moment. Deep and demanding attention. Baekhyun halts at the door, one hand on the frame, and looks over his shoulder. “Could you inform Junmyeon to come here?” the words rush out, burning Yixing’s tongue. “There’s some details I’d like to go over before he sleeps.” A lie, but a convincing one. 

Baekhyun’s lips quirk up into an amused smile, and there’s smoke curling around his fingers. He inhales again, infuriatingly slow. He blows the smoke upwards, letting it settle in the air. “There’s no need to concern yourself about it,” he says eventually, answering the question Yixing really wanted to ask. 

“I wasn’t concerning myself over anything” 

“Right,” Now there’s amusement seeping into Baekhyun’s voice, the same way his smoke seeps through the cracks in the wood panels. “Junmyeon’s a very dear _friend_ of mine, as you would have guessed.” 

Yixing doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t look down either. He keeps his gaze locked with Baekhyun’s grey eyes. 

“Which is why if anything goes wrong tomorrow, regarding him, I will personally hold you responsible. Emperor or not, we’ve been through enough.” 

“I understand,” Yixing says as calmly as he can, even though he’s imagining all the ways he can execute Baekhyun. 

“Jealousy won’t serve you well, you know.” He speaks as if he’s advising a friend, but there’s a bite in his words. _Jealousy._ That was it, the weird feeling that had clamped onto Yixing from the moment they entered Baekhyun’s house. Envious at how comfortable Baekhyun and Junmyeon were. Envious about the long-lasting friendship they represented. “I’ll take my leave now, and let him know that you asked for him.” 

Baekhyun leaves, shutting the door with a soft click, and Yixing can still smell the smoke that lingers in the room. 

When Junmyeon slips into his room, hours have passed. He’s probably been chatting with Baekhyun, but Yixing doesn’t know how Junmyeon knew he wasn’t asleep. They go over the plan in painstaking detail, and it’s impossible to ignore how Junmyeon is acting. Unlike his normal easy-going self, he seems strained. Like a wire being pulled taut.

“Are you nervous?” Yixing asks Junmyeon later that night, curious. 

“Of course I am,” Junmyeon breathes out slowly, the moonlight streaking his face. He looks like a painting, the kind Yixing would hang in his study and admire when he could. “So don’t fail me, Your Majesty.” 

The morning is filled with anticipation, as if someone had charged them up with copious amounts of nervous energy. Junmyeon fixes the veil over his face for what feels like the millionth time, murmuring about how much he hates it. Baekhyun loads them into his carriage, straightening out Junmyeon’s collar, and looking Yixing and Jongdae up and down in approval of his work. They don’t look completely different, but their features have been highlighted. Changed in the slightest ways thanks to smudged substances and a skillful hand. 

“You know,” Yixing pauses, taking in how this is probably how Junmyeon had felt when they had attended the festival sitical, and Yixing’s mask had covered the entirety of his face. “This veil is very similar to what women in our nation wear when they mourn.” 

“Are you telling me I should pretend to be a woman?” Junmyeon says, and it sounds like he can’t decide whether he finds the comment funny or not. 

“It might be a more fool-hardy disguise,” Yixing eyes Junmyeon carefully, “I’m not sure why you’re so certain that this will work.” 

“I used to spend my days in this library, Your Majesty.” Junmyeon reminds him. “I know it, and how it works, like the back of my hand. 

“I’m sure you do,” Yixing sighs, and now all they can do is wait. 

It’s a bit strange that Junmyeon’s study was in a library and not at his resident home. He had a study at home, or so he said, but he preferred the one at the library because all the material was right there, easy to access and everything. 

As they travel, it’s easy to see why Junmyeon wants to try and salvage what he can from his clan. The streets are nice, bustling with people just like the town back in the main city— but it’s alleyways showed the real image. People begging, slumped over in the streets waiting to die. Secretly, and behind the scenes. It makes Yixing’s blood boil but he has no time to think about it when they’ve arrived at the library. 

A big looming building, built grandly— clearly one of the focal points in the town. Several steps lead up to it’s entrance, marble pillars winding upwards to hold the building steady. Jongdae will get off at another point, so he can enter in later.

“You worked here?” Yixing scoffs, “This looks grander than my palace.” The emerald palace, the place Yixing had stayed for less than half of his life, seems unnervingly simple to the likes of this. Yixing had replaced some of the grandeur with simpler, gold decor, due to his preference and wanting to get rid of every single trace his father had left behind.

“Have you seen your palace, Your Majesty?”

“Drop the title,” Yixing reminds him, and it’s strange that he’s reminding Junmyeon to do that— but nothing is impossible anymore. 

“Right,” Junmyeon inhales, “Have you seen your palace?” 

“Yes,” Yixing answers. “Obviously.”

“Right.” 

“Junmyeon?” 

“Mhm,” Junmyeon is staring at the top of the stairs. 

“Are you nervous?” 

“I got arrested right here,” Junmyeon says, turning to face Yixing. It’s not like he can see his expression but he already knows what Junmyeon’s face looks like: pained. 

“Well, if all goes well I can execute people in that very spot.” 

“That’s an Interesting offer, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m sure you will,” Yixing says conversationally, but he’s being dead serious. He looks at the stairs again, and the amount seems daunting. “Are we ready?” Whether he’s referring to climbing, or this whole ordeal, doesn't matter. 

“It’s not as bad when you’re going up,” Junmyeon tries, but it’s not convincing at all. 

“Let’s start then.” 

The outside of the library is nothing compared to the inside. Yixing is’nt one for books but he would gladly start reading more if he renovated the royal library to look like this. Circular staircases leading up and up, as far as he can there are books, and books, history books and fiction. Tales and the truth, Sehun would love it here— and it’s no wonder Junmyeon does too. 

He can’t see Junmyeon’s face but he imagines that the joy in his expression is palpable. Radiating so brightly he can feel it. 

“So where are we going?” Yixing murmurs, leaning in closer to Junmyeon. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop down from the highest point on the stairs. Junmyeon jerks his head up. 

“Fourth floor,” He whispers, tapping his fingers against his sides. A nervous habit, Yixing has come to learn. “It’s quite hidden.” 

“How many floors are there?”

“Around twelve,” Junmyeon pauses, “The best books are put on the twelfth floor to motivate people to make full use of the library.” 

“Do people actually listen to that?”

“No, the third floor is normally where people put their limit.” 

“How convenient.”

“Regardless it’s too many stairs. But that’s the price I paid to do what I love.” 

“You’ll be able to do it again, soon.” Yixing reminds him as they make their way to the stairs. 

“I doubt it,” Junmyeon sighs, his voice a quiet murmur. “I don’t think anything will be the same after this.” 

“And maybe that’s a good thing,” Yixing offers as a bit of hope, going on the first step. 

By the time they reach the fourth floor, Junmyeon is spent. He’s all too weak from sitting around all day for months in prison, and not enough strength recovery when he was with Yixing. He leans against a pillar, and Yixing’s sure his expression is filled with hatred. 

“I hate these damn stairs,” he grumbles, using Yixing’s hand to pull himself off where he’s leaning. 

“As do many. Now where is your study?” 

“I can’t just point you to it, it’ll be too obvious.” 

Yixing shoots Junmyeon a look, but he doesn’t bother starting the argument. 

“We’ll go near it, follow me.” 

He does, letting Junmyeon navigate him through the spacious fourth floor, and then suddenly he’s being yanked behind a bookcase. 

“What are you doing?” He hisses as Junmyeon peers out from behind the bookcase. 

“Look,” Junmyeon mutters under his breath, “By the dragons.” 

Yixing glances ahead to wear the door to Junmyeon’s study is, and right beside it on either side is a guard, leading against the wall in their dark blue uniforms, looking bored.

“Pretend that you're browsing,” Yixing murmurs, already looking at the books in faux interest. It’s not like the guards had spotted them anyways.

“Well there’s a problem,” Junmyeon hisses, and he sounds nervous. “What are we supposed to do if there are guards there? Why didn’t your people inform you of this?” 

“Keep your voice down,” Yixing hushes, pretending to look at a book. He measures its weight in his hand, deeming it not heavy enough. “Shouldn’t you have guessed that there are guards?” 

“I never expected them to take it so seriously.” Junmyeon marvels, but it comes out shaky. He’s starting to get nervous. 

“Change of plans,” Yixing smiles at Junmyeon, like he’s discussing the plot of the book he’s placing back. “Just a slight one.” 

“We can’t change plans,” Junmyeon whispers back, staring at the book spines. “How would we tell Jongdae?” 

“Calm down,” Yixing orders, quietly. “Jongdae still plays the same role, we just need to act fast.” 

“Act fast...how?” Junmyeon sounds more suspicious than nervous now.

“We’re each going to choose a heavy book,” Yixing trails his fingers over the books, trying to find the thickest one he possibly can. “And when the bookshelf falls, and the guards go to peek over the railing to see if everything is ok, we act.” 

“Act as in...sneak in? When they’re right there?” 

“No,” Yixing pulls out a book, it’s black with gold lettering, some useless tale that won’t be missed. “Act as in before they reach the railing we hit them with the books of our choice, and drag them to that corner there.” 

Junmyeon stares at Yixing incredulously. 

“Have you gone mad?” 

“No,” Yixing drops the book in Junmyeon’s hands, and selects his own, “We’ll have to be quick, because in order to lose suspicion we’ll have to part ways.” 

_“What?”_ Junmyeon breathes out, struggling to carry the book. Yixing takes it back, and carries both heavy books with ease. 

“I’m a better actor than you give me credit for. I’ll rush to the guards side and when they rouse from their...sudden sleep I can easily spin some tale about this and that. I heard the sound and rushed to find someone and found them like that instead.” 

“This isn’t going to work,” Junmyeon hisses, flipping the black veil over so it rests on his hair. “And it’s disrespectful to the books.”

In a knee-jerk reaction Yixing immediately yanks it back down. “I certainly don’t care if it’s disrespectful to the books, and I have no problem ordering you to go along with what I’m saying. But it definitely won’t work if you blow your own cover, so let’s make our way over to them now. And wait.” 

“You’ve gone mad.” 

“Just as mad as you,” Yixing answers evenly, dragging Junmyeon behind the bookshelves. They’re perfectly positioned, and the guards are clearly bored. Yawning and talking amongst themselves obviously until—

Yixing _knows_ Junmyeon said the distraction would be loud and obvious but he wasn’t expecting a thud that would echo throughout the halls and shake the bookshelves. Almost like the sound of a cannon going off on the battlefield it hurts his ears, so much so he almost forgets about the plan they just made. 

It’s Yixing who surges over, quietly and fast, looking at Junmyeon who hesitates before grabbing the book out of Yixing’s arms. They both make quick work out of it, sneaking behind the guards and giving them a sturdy _thwack_ on the head. They slump to ground in a way Yixing knows means that they’re out of it. 

“Nice work,” Yixing comments, grabbing one by the ankles and directing Junmyeon to slip his hands under the upper half of the guard’s body. He helpsYixing carry the guard,lying the body on the ground. “Should we keep them separately?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t answer, but he’s clearly distracted. 

“Junmyeon?” Yixing asks again as they take the second one. He just shakes his head and they leave it close to the first. 

“I guess this way it looks like they both went to investigate something here.” 

“I suppose so,” Junmyeon says, looking down on them. They look pathetic on the floor, pale and passed out. There’s a strange note in his voice, and Yixing doesn’t like that he can’t read it, can’t read Junmyeon. “We better get going.” 

They don’t walk the main path to Junmyeon’s study, taking a more covert side path behind the edges of bookshelves. The door isn’t big, just a simple wooden design with an iron door handle shaped like a dragon. Junmyeon takes the key hanging off his neck, holding it up the lock. 

It goes in smoothly, the small click barely audible even through the silence. There’s silence now, murmuring that comes from the lower levels. Probably near where Jongdae had created the distraction they were initially supposed to use to mask the noise. They enter the study quietly, closing the door with a soft thud. 

The minute they’re inside Junmyeon lifts his veil up. He looks torn, and almost like he’s hurt.

It’s smaller than Yixing thought, dark brown wooden floors with matching bookshelves along the walls. Books _everywhere._ Stacked high on the shelves and at the floor of them, on Junmyeon’s desk too—which is a mess. Papers strewn everywhere, book stacked so high it’ll tumble down any day now. It’s clearly been ransacked, so thoroughly checked what it used to be is only there in hints. 

“At least they didn’t trash the place completely,” Junmyeon murmurs, a sad look in his eyes. This is where he spent most of his time after all, poring over books and writing his findings with a level of enthusiasm he’ll probably never find again. They don’t have the time to mourn over what was anymore. 

“Where’s the dossier?” Yixing asks, turning as he examines the study. There doesn’t seem to be any place to hide it.

“Right,” Junmyeon blinks, heading over to one of the bookshelves. He looks at every level intently, using his finger to track his place until he’s pulling out a thin but big book. 

“You hid it there?” Yixing asks, confused to the blatant hiding place. 

“Of course not,” Junmyeon says, meaning to sound dismissive but it falls flat. He flips through the pages and then pulls _another_ key out of the pages. It’s small and flat, easily concealable. 

“Are you alright?” Yixing asks suddenly, and Junmyeon just looks up at him, unamused. 

“We’re on enemy territory, where you won’t die but I certainly can.”

“Not when I’m here.” 

“Right. My family told me the same thing.” 

Ouch. 

Junmyeon continues on, slipping the book back into the shelf. He walks over to his desk, frowning at the mess. “At least they didn’t confiscate everything.” 

Yixing is intrigued as to where this is going. Hiding the key to his study with a friend, that key leading to another key, pressed between the pages of a book that probably had a secret meaning, now Junmyeon is kneeling in front of his desk using the key he just found to unlock a cabinet in his desk. 

Yixing watches in amazement as the door opens, giving way to a safe. 

“They didn’t think to check the safe?” It’s so _obvious_ that something important would be hidden in a safe. 

“They would have if they knew the code,” He sounds contemplative. Junmyeon looks up at Yixing, he looks back down expectantly. “You’re stronger than me, could you please take the safe out?” 

“What?” But he kneels down beside Junmyeon nonetheless. Junmyeon scoots back, giving Yixing space. 

“Take the safe out, it’s heavy.” 

If Yixing had the time to question Junmyeon, he would. But he doesn’t, so he sticks his hand into the cabinet and wraps his arms around the grey safe. It’s heavy, clearly, so he wiggles it out until he’s able to tilt it down towards the floor, lifting. 

“Now we open the safe?” 

“No,” Junmyeon murmurs, “Move aside, please.” 

Yixing leans to his left as Junmyeon goes forwards, sticking his head into the now empty cabinet. 

“They would have definitely tried the safe, _but...”_ Junmyeon trails off, and from Yixing can hear him shifting something. “They wouldn’t have tried to take it out.” Junmyeon emerges, a wooden panel in his hands. He sets it on top of the safe, and Yixing peers in the cabinet to see the back part removed, and there behind it, is a pristine folder. 

“Unbelievable,” Yixing says, partly because the effort to conceal it was, and partly because he never quite _fully_ believed Junmyeon when he said it existed. Junmyeon pulls the folder out, and without sparing a thought he sets it on the floor. Methodically he puts the panel back in, and directs Yixing to carefully load the safe. With a soft click he shuts the cabinet door, smoothly grabbing the dossier off the floor. 

He begins to hand it to Yixing, but then he falters. Looking down at his desk.

“What is it?” Yixing asks, searching Junmyeon’s eyes for an answer, an explanation. He can see the hesitation in his eyes, and he follows Junmyeon’s gaze.

Upright on his desk is a portrait, surrounded in a gold frame and the glass cracked across it. It’s a portrait of his family, Yixing can only assume. The resemblance between Junmyeon and the people in the portrait is uncanny.

“Huh,” Junmyeon says shakily. “I’m surprised they didn’t confiscate that too.”

“Maybe it pained them too,” Yixing murmurs, feeling hate towards everyone in the portrait except Junmyeon.

“What if this doesn’t work?” Junmyeon breathes out suddenly, his fingers pale around the folder. Was this why he looked so off earlier, because that’s what was on his mind? Yixing doesn’t get it, they have the proof. In their hands. Nothing could go wrong from here even if the Kim Clan tried because Junmyeon had sworn himself to Yixing, which meant the folder in his hands was his. “What if this, what if we’ve managed to make the situation—” 

“Why are you so insecure?” Yixing snaps, trying to pull Junmyeon back to reality.

Junmyeon looks astounded. His mouth parted, and his eyes are wide and rounded.“I’ve been trampled on my whole life, of course I’m going to have my doubts!” He moves around the desk, and Yixing follows suit.

“But now?” Yixing questions, he feels angry. At Junmyeon, at his family, at the entire Kim Clan for making one man suffer so much for their sake. “We have it in our hands, nothing can go wrong from here.” 

“For _you,”_ Junmyeon whispers, like his worst fears are coming to life. 

“Do you _know_ all the power you have, Junmyeon? Do you _understand?_ You have me, the _Emperor,_ on your side. Willing to work this out with you.” _Willing to work this out for you._

“How are you so confident?” Junmyeon’s looking at Yixing with furrowed eyebrows, and now is not the time for them to having this conversation. Especially when they’re on a timer. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s arrogance, but you hardly brag,” 

“My _confidence_ was earned, not falsely fed, _earned.”_ He stresses, wanting his words to scorch Junmyeon. Yixing glances down to their feet, the way their toes are nearly touching. Even that barest hint of a touch electrifies him. Sends little currents shooting through his body.

“Well my insecurity, The mild manner you despise so much?” That’s wrong, Yixing doesn’t despise a single part of Junmyeon. “That was ingrained in me.” Without hesitation Yixing reaches over and unfurls them, he’s seen the crescent indents of Junmyeon’s fingernails too many times to bear. 

“You’re more than they could ever handle. More than they could ever be. Don’t be meek when you could have the world dancing in your palms if you so choosed!”

Something about those words strike a chord in Junmyeon apparently, because he surges over, his hands grabbing fistfuls of Yixing’s robes. Almost as if the moment is in slow motion Yixing watches as Junmyeon’s eyes flutter shut and their lips press together. Soft hands, softly cupping his jaw, soft lips. Parted slightly, a sigh slowly being let out. Yixing keeps his eyes open, knowing that Junmyeon is well aware of them. He lets Junmyeon kiss him, but doesn’t return the kiss. He won’t, not yet. Not now. Even if he burns with the want to. When Junmyeon pulls away, he looks a little breathless, a little hesitant, but not shamed, and certainly not scared. 

“Forgive me,” Junmyeon says, and Yixing watches his lips as he speaks. They’re pink, pretty, Junmyeon is pretty, Yixing realizes. And he’s not surprised by the realization. He finds Junmyeon pretty, he finds Junmyeon _soft._ “I let my head get the best me.” 

This time, it’s Yixing who leans in. His answer is evident in the way he boldly reduces the space between them. His lips soft on Junmyeon and then hard the next moment. Unlike Junmyeon’s kiss Yixing doesn’t give, he takes. He manages to pull Junmyeon in closer by a hand on his waist, letting his silent want be felt. Junmyeon’s hand slips down from Yixing’s jaw to his shoulder, presses against it like he’s trying to ground himself. Keep himself from floating away. 

Despite the urgency in his moves, Yixing is moving slowly. Giving Junmyeon time, the option to pull away if he wants. He doesn’t, letting Yixing kiss him breathless. Yixing moves a hand up to tilt Junmyeon’s face to one side, tugs at Junmyeon’s lower lip with his teeth. It’s messier now. Junmyeon shuddering like he’s frozen from the cold, gasps leaving his mouth like they’re being wrenched from it. A single, quiet moan which Yixing will dream about for days. He pulls away first, his eyes dark and his heart beating in his chest so loudly surely Junmyeon can hear it. 

“We need to leave,” Yixing says in a low voice.

“Right,” Junmyeon blinks, like he’s remembering where they are. He takes one last glance around his study, ensuring that everything is as they left it. That won’t matter soon but if it gives him a little peace, Yixing will let him be.

He easily flips the veil back over his face, slipping the dossier into the front fold of his robe. It’s easily concealable, as if it's been made for easy transport— and of course it is because Junmyeon was the one who made it after all. Quietly opening the door, and locking it shut. It’s disappointingly anticlimactic, but they can breathe easier now. They’ve got the proof, and like Yixing said, the rest will come naturally. 

It all goes by disappointingly fast from there. Junmyeon impatiently waiting for the carriage to arrive at Baekhyun’s house, holding the folder tightly in his hands. When he gives it to Yixing, his eyes linger on their hands. Yixing wonders if he should mention something, anything, about what happened earlier in Junmyeon’s study— but he chooses not to. Opting to flip through the dossier instead. 

The detailed report Junmyeon gave (which was so impressively made Yixing was tempted to use it as a template) was nothing in comparison to this. Letters accounting for underground deals, direct descriptions of transactions with the enemy. It’s shocking that Junmyeon had hidden it this whole time, the downfall of his own clan. 

“How did you even get your hands on these?” Yixing questions, amazed. He spies the names of several Kim Higher-Up’s, their children’s names directly below it. A few letters from the noble houses to other noble houses, document after document that proves that the Kim Clan is so far deep into the ground, Yixing will have to finally bury them and start anew. 

“It took years,” Junmyeon admits quietly, “Killed messengers and all. What you have in your hands… is irreplaceable.” 

“It’s amazing,” Yixing says, carefully arranging the documents back. “To think they tried so hard to hide it from me...just for this.” He fans himself with the document momentarily. 

“Be careful,” Junmyeon frowns, “I would rather hold it myself.” 

“It’s mine now, you know.” Yixing looks out the window, watching as the trees pass by slowly.

“I know,” Junmyeon sighs, looking out the carriage window, he’s long since removed his veil and they’re almost at Baekhyun’s residence. 

“You did well,” Yixing looks at Junmyeon carefully, and wonders if he regrets his earlier actions. “It’s out of your hands now.” 

“I feel like it’ll never fully be out of my hands,” Junmyeon looks down at his hands, examining them as if they’re stained with blood. They’re clean, and as soft looking as ever. “They’ll face their downfall because of me.” 

“For a good cause,” Yixing hums, setting the dossier on his lap carefully. It’s worth more than gold. “It was bound to happen eventually.” 

“I suppose so.” Junmyeon looks up at Yixing solemnly. “Have you decided what you’re going to do? What’s after this?” 

“I’ll announce my sudden visit, and bring the calvary with me. Declare my plans for the clan to the leaders and provide this,” Yixing taps the folder. “As proof that they’ve lost the right for me to not directly involve myself.” 

“What are your plans for the clan?” Junmyeon looks down at the folder, and then down to his feet. 

“That’s to be decided,” Yixing says quietly, watching Junmyeon’s reaction as carefully as he can. The carriage slows to a stop, and they’re back at Baekhyun’s house. He’s waiting there, pipe in hand, looking anxious. 

“May I?” Junmyeon asks, holding his hand out for the folder. Yixing hands it to him wordlessly, keeping his eyes on him. Junmyeon takes it, holding it behind his back he hops out of the carriage with a smile. 

“Well?” Baekhyun asks, his pipe smoking. 

Junmyeon holds the folder up, as if he’s showing it off. “Mission success.” 

Baekhyun’s reaction is subtle, his lips quirking up into a smirk and his eyes hungry as they look at the dossier. “At last,” he says, sounding relieved. “They’ll get what’s coming to them, right King?” He looks at Yixing, an eyebrow arched. 

“As soon as Jongdae arrives, I’ll announce my arrival.” 

“He’s already waiting inside,” Baekhyun says, shrugging when Junmyeon mumbles his disbelief. “I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.” Baekhyun lets one last puff out before opening his door, and closing it shut. 

Yixing silently looks over at Junmyeon, who already knows what he wants. Junmyeon holds the folder out, letting Yixing take it like it’s a boulder being removed from his shoulders. 

“So you announce your arrival, and show them that,” Junmyeon looks down at the folder, inhaling slowly. “And it should all work out.” 

“It will,” Yixing replies, confident. 

“And afterwards?” 

“Like Baekhyun said, they’ll get what’s coming to them.” 

“As they should,” Junmyeon murmurs. “Have you decided their fate?” 

“I’m still debating,” Yixing hums, looking at Junmyeon carefully. He refuses to look away, and it looks like Junmyeon won’t back down either. They stand in silence, their eyes locked. “Are you feeling hopeful?” Junmyeon’s breath hitches and he looks away like Yixing’s words hurt him. Yixing takes one step, two steps forward so he can be closer to Junmyeon. “You need to let me know so I can make a decision.” 

He can’t be any clearer than that. The message is there, as if it’s written in red and pasted on his forehead. It’s up to Junmyeon, a betrayed member of the clan. It’s up to Junmyeon, who risked his life in order to try and save the people who wanted him killed to decide the fate of a clan that owed him nothing. 

“What if I said I’m feeling sad,” Junmyeon murmurs, looking downwards. “Because I know the life I would like to return to isn’t there. And that no matter how hard I try my family won’t accept my faults, and that even if I tried to save them—” Junmyeon looks up, “They would end up dead anyways.” 

Yixing reaches out with one hand, gently squeezing Junmyeon’s hand in his. “You need to make a decision, I won’t do anything you won’t want me to.” 

Junmyeon swallows, as if he’s nervous. But he let’s Yixing hold his hand. “Execute those who worked directly with the enemy. Strip the nobles who made dirty deals and left the people to starve of their title. As for my family…” Junmyeon pauses, looking thoughtful. “Whether you imprison them, or kill them, they disowned me. So I will take no responsibility for their fate.” 

Yixing nods, dropping Junmyeon’s hand even though he still wants to hold it. 

“You know,” Yixing looks at him, properly. He doesn’t know when he stopped seeing him as a nuisance, or a madman, but somewhere along the lines of their very twisted journey, it appears that he’s grown to care. Just a little. A smidge, really. “I was worried about what would happen to the North, but it appears,” he glances down at Junmyeon’s hands, soft like the hands of someone who didn’t work— but Yixing knows better now. “They’re in very good hands.” 

Junmyeon smiles, a little ruefully and maybe, just maybe there’s a glimmer of hope. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	5. Call My Name

“Sword dances are a crucial part of this Kingdom’s history,” Yixing says, looking up from the letter he’s reading. He might as well do some work while Junmyeon is practising. He had been staying on the Kim Clan territory for too long now. Today marked the day of Junmyeon’s inauguration ceremony, so he was due to leave soon. “As you would know.”

There’s a sharp clang, and Yixing watches in amusement as Junmyeon’s sword spins in the air before clattering onto the ground. 

Junmyeon cries out again, undoubtedly frustrated when his sword is sent flying again by Jongdae. The humid weather doesn’t help. Jongdae wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, and gives Yixing another look. This one Yixing can roughly translate into a series of curses in his native tongue. 

“I don’t see _you_ practising your sword dancing,” Junmyeon squints his eyes accusatorily and it’s a wonder Yixing let’s him get away with it. 

“I don’t need practise,” Yixing folds the letter into a perfect half, setting it down in his read letter pile. “My form is already perfect.”

“It’s just different to what I expected,” Junmyeon says heavily, “I’m not one for these dances anyways.”

“It’s not like you have a choice in the matter. Excelling in them is an unsaid quality of a clan leader.” 

“How ridiculous,” Junmyeon frowns. “Besides, I haven’t even seen a sword dance done without the music accompanying the dancers. Maybe that’s why I’m struggling.” 

“You have a rehearsal with the music accompaniment later today. For now, you can’t handle the extra distraction,” Yixing shrugs, “You can’t even get the simplest form of the dance down.” 

“I’m _trying,”_ Junmyeon stresses, dabbing at his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. “My strength is not physical. I already know I can’t do this.” 

“Is that what you think?” 

“It’s what I’m _saying,”_ Junmyeon stresses.

“If you tried hard enough at it, maybe you would be able to do it.” And if it were anyone else, Yixing would already be feeling the annoyance ebbing on him. 

“I _am_ trying,” 

“Not hard enough.” He counters easily. Standing up he makes his way towards where Junmyeon is standing. Like a defiant child, Junmyeon’s hands are crossed over his chest. 

They’re almost face to face now, so close that Yixing could count Junmyeon’s eyelashes. Admire the rosy hue in his cheeks, lips. Junmyeon is attractive, in a way that makes Yixing want to push and break him. Attractive in a way that makes his heart restrict and want to look away at the same time. Confusing. Maybe Junmyeon was just confusing.

“Not hard enough?” Junmyeon blinks, as though he’s innocent. “I don’t see you monitoring my every move.” He has a lot of nerve to speak to Yixing like this, batting his eyes in front of Jongdae, and maybe Yixing has a lot of nerve to just stand and let him. It’s been like this for ages, if Yixing were to admit it. He’d let Junmyeon get away with anything if it meant they could stay together just the slightest bit longer.

“Not hard enough,” Yixing confirms, breath ghosting over Junmyeon’s lips. 

It’s the playfulness that fuels Junmyeon to outstretch his arms, ready to shove Yixing. Push him back a step or two. Yixing’s fingers wrap around his wrists before his fingertips can even reach his chest. In whatever ways he wants to push Junmyeon, Junmyeon wants to do the same to him. 

“Try that again and I’ll break your wrists.” Yixing smiles sweet, even if his words are anything but. It would be all too easy for him to do., but he wouldn’t dare to even touch Junmyeon in that way.

“Do it!” Junmyeon exclaims, daring him. Too tempting, especially when Yixing’s fingers are wrapped around his wrists so easily. A part of Yixing wonders if he can cage both of Junmyeon’s wrists in one hand. “Then I won’t have to do this infuriating dance,” 

Yixing drops Junmyeon’s wrists, keeping his face blank. “Again.” He orders calmly. 

“No,” Junmyeon refutes, pouting. He grabs the sword that’s on the ground and sticks the point into the ground. 

“That’s not an option, Junmyeon.” Yixing grabs the hilt of the sword, and easily pulls it out. “Give him your sword Jongdae.” 

He points the edge of the blade against Junmyeon’s neck. Junmyeon doesn’t flinch, just stares back at Yixing defiantly. Too stubborn for his own good. He would be performing this, _today,_ and he was acting as if he has all the time in the world. Yixing keeps the sword pointed at Junmyeon’s pretty neck for just a few seconds longer,(Yixing had never thought a neck was pretty before) before aiming it towards the ground.

Jongdae complies easily, and Junmyeon takes it from him. “What are you planning?” Junmyeon asks with narrowed eyes. He’s grown used to Yixing’s games. Yixing watches as Jongdae moves towards the short wall surrounding them, leaning against it. He crosses his arm, and his expression screams amused. 

“Sometimes the problem isn’t necessarily _how_ you wield the sword,” Yixing tilts his head up, and Junmyeon takes a few steps back. “But the wielder itself.”

“So me,” Junmyeon responds, looking unimpressed. 

“Exactly,” Yixing points the tip of his sword towards Junmyeon. 

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Junmyeon exclaims, a little laugh coming out. 

“Junmyeon,” Yixing says levelly, “Try again.” 

“With you?” Junmyeon questions incredulously. 

“This is a high honour, don’t sound so disgusted.” Yixing looks at Junmyeon. “Your attitude can very well be the difference between life and death.” 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “We’ve grown past that.”

“Have we?”Yixing holds his sword out towards Junmyeon. The tips of the swords just barely touch. “And wrong, by the way.” 

“We just started!” Junmyeon huffs. 

Yixing sighs, and now it’s him driving the sword into the ground. “Hold your stance,” He moves towards Junmyeon, until he’s right behind him. Jongdae goes and picks up Yixing’s sword, wordlessly placing it beside him before he disappears into the shadows again. 

“What are you—” 

“Do you want to succeed or not?” Yixing murmurs. He keeps one hand on Junmyeon’s waist and the other holds his wrist from underneath. The heat from Junmyeon’s skin bleeds into him. He tightens his fingers around his wrist. So fragile, so breakable. His mouth is right beside Junmyeon’s ears, and he doesn’t need to look at him to know the shorter is flushed. This is the closest they’ve been in public. “First, hold your sword tighter.” 

Junmyeon does as instructed immediately for once, so Yixing should probably try this tactic. Fingers tightening so hard Yixing can see his knuckles whiten. Yixing knows it’s not out of fear anymore, just to ground him from whatever thoughts are causing his ears to turn pink.

“You need to bend your hand upwards here,” Yixing uses his hand to direct it. “You keep making this mistake. Now, hold it straight in front of you,” He lets go of his wrist.

Junmyeon obliges, holding the sword right under his eyes, his wrists making a cross on the hilt. Yixing’s fingers gently probe his elbows the slightest bit upwards. Now his arms are on either side of Junmyeon, his front nearly pressing into his back. Yixing can picture it easily, his hands resting on Junmyeon’s narrow waist. The curve of his hips, slipping down lower as Junmyeon looks over his shoulder, lips parted and—

“Now what?” Junmyeon asks, and he sounds as breathless as Yixing had hoped to to make him. Yixing is starting to feel warmer than he intended.

“Five steps forward, _slowly,_ ” He reminds Junmyeon before he swings his sword. “ And spin so you face me.” 

He picks up his sword from the ground while Junmyeon busies himself with the steps. When Junmyeon whirls around, he’s met with Yixing angling the sword downwards in front of him. “Keep going,” he orders. The tip of his sword is pointed towards the right, and Junmyeon’s to the left. “Now we circle each other.” 

Junmyeon slowly slides his feet around, and they stand in front of each other, their pathways in the stone forming an invisible circle. 

“Forwards,” Yixing says, and the moment the command leaves his mouth Junmyeon is following, determination in his eyes. He’s actually listening and paying attention instead of countering every last word Yixing says. It’s so refreshing, even if Yixing loves their banter. The sound their swords make echoes in their ear, a loud and heavy ringing of metal meeting metal. Yixing doesn’t voice his approval. He just spins his sword around, just barely nicking the edge of Junmyeon’s robes. 

Junmyeon, to Yixing’s surprise, stays in his spot. He follows the movements in the opposite direction. Yixing’s sword is pointed to the sky, and Junmyeon’s to the ground. “Spin. This time we should be touching again.” 

They do that, backs pressed against each other. Junmyeon tilts his head back for a second, and Yixing let’s it knock against his. He can feel every heave of Junmyeon’s chest, and he wants to see it. The fire in Junmyeon’s eyes, highlighted by the next move of the dance.

“Bring it under your eyes,” he continues. “And then direct it towards the left with a sliding movement.” Yixing does the same but to the right. “Now move away from me.” 

As if eager to do so, Junmyeon jumps away. He looks shaky, thrown off his game if Yixing is reading him correctly. He likes that, the way Junmyeon’s cheeks can’t hide the flush from the effort he’s exerting— and other possible things. 

“Slide next time, it’s smoother and looks better.” Yixing directs, pointing his sword at Junmyeon. “Point it towards me.” 

Junmyeon follows. “Couldn’t I be imprisoned for this?” he smiles wryly. His bangs stick to his forehead, a testament of his constant working. 

“I thought we’ve grown past that,” Yixing reminds him flatly. “Thrust your sword forward, and spin to avoid my blade.” 

With a huff Junmyeon does it, they’re not facing each other anymore. 

“You don’t even have the time to practise more.” 

“Then what do you suggest?” Junmyeon raises an eyebrow at Yixing. 

“Perform with me.” 

“What?” Junmyeon blinks, “Why?” 

“I can mask what you lack,” Yixing says, frowning. “You don’t have to deny me so rudely.” 

“I’m not denying you at all,” Junmyeon breathes out. “I’m just shocked that it’s. I assumed you would be too busy to attend, given all your meeting’s and letters to respond to and—” 

“I’m not,” Yixing cuts in smoothly. “And unless you don’t want to perform with me, I don’t see why not.” 

“I would be honoured,” Junmyeon replies with a smile. “Like my own, personal send off. Isn’t it?” 

“Think whatever you like,” He watches as Jongdae extends a cloth towards him. His lips are bordering a smirk and Yixing wants it gone soon. 

“Well, that’s settled then.” Junmyeon wipes at his face lightly with the cloth. Even the way he holds it is more delicate than Yixing expected. “Shouldn’t you be busy preparing for the ceremony?” Junmyeon teases.

“Not as busy as you,” He’s looking at Junmyeon, and the way his lips quirk up. “But I do have to go. I’ll see you before the ceremony starts. Try to fit in a few more minutes of practice. I can adapt after all.”

“Gladly.” With a little bow, and funny looking salute, Junmyeon whirls away. His blue robes swim out behind him, and for whatever reason Yixing is tempted to reach out and grab it, make him stay. 

“If I may Your Majesty,” Jongdae begins. 

“You may not,” Yixing says, dabbing at his face. 

“That was quite the spectacle,” Jongdae continues. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know, sometimes they say that it’s not the wielder, but the partner itself.” He pauses. “I suspect you were the right partner for him, Your Majesty.” 

“Enough nonsense Jongdae. I have a banquet to prepare for.” 

The inauguration goes smoother than Yixing had hoped. Everyone is high spirits, happy that after months of work the Kim Clan is back on the right track. Junmyeon takes his new title with ease, not breaking eye contact the entire time Yixing appoints him as the new leader of the North. He appoints some people he’s personally chosen (Do Kyungsoo, a hard worker who helped Yixing in the past as a permanent resident, and Baekhyun as someone with personal experience with the Kim Clan) to be Junmyeon’s right-hand men.

After the normal stiff ceremony, the festivities begin. The wine is brought out, and the food is served. Dancing and laughter fills the room, and everything feels right. Perfect, too perfect, but Yixing has personally made sure that nothing today would go wrong. 

Soon enough, Junmyeon is called for his act of honour, and much to everyone’s surprise Yixing follows after him, sword in tow. Silence falls onto the room, hushed voices ceasing their whispering as the pair take their positions in the center of the room.

“Stance,” Yixing murmurs, pulling his sword back. He keeps the tip pointed towards the ground towards the right, and Junmyeon does the same but to the left. The beauty of sword dances came from the way they made a weapon of brutality and war into a showpiece, something passionate and frenzied amidst the cold banquet atmosphere. 

Junmyeon follows suit, his posture has improved greatly, or maybe he was just hiding his true performance self. They circle each other slowly, Junmyeon keeps his eyes on Yixing, and Yixing does likewise. Their steps mirror each other, the taps of their feet echoing in time with the drum that is struck at intervals. The familiar beat settles in Yixing’s bones.

They surge forward at the same time, the swords meeting with a heavy clang. Yixing drops one hand off the hilt, spinning his sword upwards easily. Junmyeon spins it and leaves it angled down. 

A spin. Their backs against each other. Swords angled horizontally, right under their eyes. An easy movement that has Yixing’s sword pointed to the right, and Junmyeon’s to left. They slide apart from each other, robes fluttering at the sudden move. Their swords are pointed at each other once again. Yixing’s eyes burn into Junmyeon’s, and Junmyeon accepts the flames. 

A thrust towards each other, a spin to avoid being slaughtered by the blade. Junmyeon is matching his steps well, so well Yixing feels a stir inside him. He’s more than impressed. A drip of sweat runs down Junmyeon’s cheek, and Yixing wants to wipe it away. 

They’re not facing each other anymore, the end of the dance approaching. With a final strong swing of his blade, Yixing twirls. Right on time, their swords meet in the center between them, crossed against each other. 

There’s a moment where the clanging of their swords rings out, interrupting the heavy silence. Junmyeon looks at Yixing defiantly as always, and Yixing meets his gaze with just as much passion. It’s like they’re in a trance, blades pressed against each other, and their eyes locked. Daring the other to break away first.

The applause takes care of that for them, smatterings of clapping noises break throughout the room, shattering their moment. Junmyeon’s chest heaves as he stows his sword away, before striving gracefully towards him. As per custom, he dips into a bow, before straightening up. 

“Thank you,” He murmurs, soft and sweet. Yixing wants to say something, anything about how he’s leaving in the early morning but he can’t. Not here. The look in Junmyeon’s eyes indicates that he gets that, the lingering hand he places on Yixing’s arm proves that. But more than anything this whisper in Yixing’s ears, to meet him outside, cements that. 

They’re like teenagers, kids maybe. Reaching for each other the moment they find cover in the dark. Junmyeon’s cheeks pink as Yixing leans in to kiss Junmyeon. Slower, more purposeful this time. Junmyeon’s hands slide up cupping Yixing’s cheeks. It’s a gentle gesture, one Yixing has surprisingly become familiar with. He will miss this, along with everything about Junmyeon, terribly. 

“People will notice if we’re gone long,” Junmyeon murmurs, still holding onto Yixing’s robes. They’re acting as if they won’t see each other forever. They’ll see each other, sporadically, when Yixing comes to visit, and vice versa. But who knows when the next time will be. Yixing will be right back to his boring duties and stacks of stacks of paper, his head filled with the countless worries his empire provided. Junmyeon will be no better, having to help build up a broken clan. Yixing wonders if the letters they will send will be enough to quell his occasional bout of loneliness. They probably won’t, but he’ll manage. “Should we head back?” 

"I'd rather not," Yixing says, selfishly. They're only counting down hours from here. Too little time spent together, too little words shared between them.

"If you order me too," Junmyeon presses a kiss against Yixing's lips. "Then I suppose I don't have a choice." 

"I won't." He can't. Not anymore. If Junmyeon decides to stay he'll indulge in him, if he doesn't, they'll go back to the banquet as if nothing has happened. As if they're just two people who work together, no more, no less. Even if anyone with eyes, could clearly see how Yixing favoured Junmyeon.

"Then we should go," Junmyeon's voice is filled with longing, "It's not like the banquet will go on all night anyways." 

One last night between them.

“Not going to kiss my ring before we go?” Like a promise, shared between them. Junmyeon brings him in for another kiss, as if he’ll never let Yixing go. When they pull apart Junmyeon’s eyes are glassy, as if he’s going to cry. Yixing looks down at Junmyeon’s lips, drags his thumb across his lower one slowly. A pretty picture, like Junmyeon. 

Junmyeon takes Yixing’s hand in his, and does as asked. A quick peck to Yixing’s ring, and he’s smiling like nothing’s wrong. And maybe he’s got the right idea, because they’re ok. The Kingdom is ok, and the Kim Clan, through a union of the Empire and Junmyeon’s effort will thrive someday in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh this was a bit (I think a bit is generous considering it is highkey) messy butthis was, absolutely unlike anything I've written before. It was so fun to explore and brainstorm for this universe, I can only hope the prompter enjoyed this, and I have to thank the prompter for the amazing prompt itself.


End file.
